


United in Fury

by DannyBlack70



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Incest, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-08-28 07:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 205,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyBlack70/pseuds/DannyBlack70
Summary: Stannis Baratheon arrived on Dragonstone before Rhaella Targaryen's death, and her dying wish was for him to look after baby Daenerys. As a hostage of King Robert, her chance meeting with Durran, King Robert's black haired son will change the destiny of Westeros entirely. My OC/AU venture into the 'Black Prince' genre of Game of Thrones fanfiction. Cross posted from fanfiction.net





	1. Chained Dragon

**284 AC**

Dragonstone looked quiet. Too quiet, thought Stannis Baratheon. He had been charged by his brother to take the last Targaryen stronghold in Westeros, and was bearing down on the island with the newly rebuilt Royal Fleet. His ship  _Fury_  was leading the small armada, but while Stannis was expecting a fight, he sailed closer to the island to see the waters had been filled with wrecked ships.

Ordering the Captain to sail into the harbour, he noticed white flags being raised where Targaryen ones once flew. Mentally smiling, he had  _Fury_  pull into the harbour and disembarked from the ship to speak to the harbour master.

"You are surrendering?" Stannis asked.

"Yes My Lord." The man said. "The storm wiped out the fleet, and we see no reason to stay loyal to a boy of 8."

"Very well. Has the castle yielded too?" Stannis asked.

"Yes My Lord."

"I shall go up there and accept their surrender." Stannis said, and with a host of guards holding aloft Robert's brand new sigil, he made his way up to the castle. The tall gates had been opened by the surrendering loyalists, and Stannis looked up at the castle, noticing the stone Targaryen sigil on one of the walls, before making his way up the long, winding stairway that led the way to the castle of Dragonstone.

Expecting the castellan of the castle, or Queen Rhaella herself, to come and surrender personally, he was surprised when he was shepherded up to what looked like the living quarters, and shown in a doorway that housed Rhaella's rooms. Stannis quickly lost the look of surprise, and walked to the bed.

"Queen Rhaella, I have taken the castle." He said officially.

"You have." She said, tired. "A good thing I will not be able to see what you do to her." Stannis was confused, until he truly saw the state she was in. She was dying, blood stained the sheets of her bed and Rhaella was weak. Not knowing what to say, he kept quiet. Rhaella chuckled at his expressions. "I don't fear death, I fear for the safety of my children."

"Viserys shall not be harmed, you have my word." Stannis said.

"The word of a Baratheon." Rhaella scoffed weakly. "Your brother gave his word to keep the peace once, look what happened."

Stannis looked directly into her eyes. "I am not my brother."

Rhaella nodded. "A good thing too, that monster murdered my grandchildren. The realm shall suffer."

"The realm has suffered already." Stannis said impatiently. "Where is Viserys?"

"Gone." Rhaella grinned. "I know not where; I wouldn't let them tell me but he's safe." Stannis groaned internally, Robert was not going to like that. Luckily for Stannis he heard crying from the next room. Sending two men to investigate he was relieved to see a wetnurse carrying a High Valyrian baby into the room.

"Boy or girl?" Stannis asked.

"Girl" Was the reply.

"If you hurt her." Rhaella growled, before coughing softly.

"I do not harm children. She is safe with me."

Rhaella looked him square in the eye. "I know I am not… not long for this world. We were kin once, my aunt was your grandmother. Promise me you won't let your brother harm Daenerys. To do so is kinslaying."

Stannis was torn, he couldn't tell Robert what to do, could he? Then again he remembered Ned Stark coming to lift the siege on Storm's End, and telling him all about the fury he had felt towards Robert. If Stannis took the girl as a hostage, together both he and Ned would be able to talk sense into Robert. "I promise you, the girl shall be taken as a hostage, nothing more." He said truthfully. Rhaella wasn't overjoyed at the news, but she did seem like a weight had been taken off of her shoulders.

"May I hold her?" She whispered painfully. "One last time?" Stannis considered for a moment, before nodding once and watching as the baby was placed in Rhaella's arms. He watched on as she said her final goodbyes, before placing the baby back into the wetnurses arms. "Take her now, I don't want her in the room when I go."

Stannis agreed. "Take her to the Fury, set her up in my cabin and make sure the wetnurse has everything she needs." He ordered, and the men dragged the wetnurse out of the room.

"Thank you." Rhaella wheezed, before her eyes closed, and they did not open again.

* * *

Stannis arrived at King's Landing and immediately went to the Small Council chamber. He was met by Robert, Ned Stark and Jon Arryn. Carefully he placed the baby in the middle of the table, and all three of the others had to stop Robert from smashing the baby's skull.

"Robert no!" Ned shouted. "You let Lannister get away with murdering children, now is the chance to redeem yourself."

"It's dragonspawn Ned I told you that!" Robert raged. "I want it dead!"

"Think, Robert." Jon pleaded. "See reason, Viserys has fled, he will want revenge for his family."

"Then I will crush him." Robert snarled.

"You won't need to if you ensure he doesn't come at all." Jon said. "We have a hostage now, he won't risk harming her."

"Let me take her North, she can foster with me at Winterfell with Jon and my trueborn son." Ned suggested.

"No, if she lives she stays here, in the Red Keep." Robert growled. "I'm having those damn skulls moved to the dungeons so she can rot down there with them. Stannis see to it that she gets a cell down there. I will have no part; I will never look upon this dragonspawn again. She can stay there till she dies." With that he stormed off, no doubt to fuck some whore to relieve his anger.

Ned was relieved too, ignoring the dragonspawn comment as he had barely repaired his relationship with Robert after seeing the bodies of the Targaryen babes. "He may be saved yet, but the girl will still need looking after."

"I will see to it personally." Stannis said. "I promised her mother I would look after her." He didn't notice the pained look on Ned's face at the word promise.

"Very well." Jon finalised. "Come Ned, we must talk before you set off for Winterfell, and I wish to see this boy you named after me." He placed his arm around Ned's shoulders and walked out the room, leaving Stannis and the baby Targaryen. He noticed her eyes were open and staring up at him. Sighing, he picked her up and went to go and find her wet nurse before starting on Robert's orders.

* * *

**286 AC**

Cersei screamed loudly, visibly worrying Jaime beside her. The pain was unbearable, and all she wanted was for it to stop.

"I can see the head Your Grace, one final push now." The Maester said, and Cersei screamed as loudly as she could to try and distract herself. Finally, she heard crying, and tears sprung from her eyes.

"Jaime, listen." She said ecstatically. Jaime rubbed her hand soothingly, before she brought it away to hold her beautiful golden haired boy. She ran her fingers over his cheeks, falling instantly in love with her boy. "Look Jaime."

"He's wonderful." He smiled down at her.

"I need to ask you to put him down, Your Grace." The Maester said, still peering in between her legs.

"What? Why?" She asked.

"It seems that you have a second baby on the way."

* * *

She didn't know what to think. Somehow, that drunken lecher had managed to get her pregnant that night on Estermont. She was sure she had been so careful, only letting Jaime spill himself inside her, but he must have fucked some whore and had the remnants of that on his filthy cock. She felt sick, Jaime told her not to worry, that at least the King would be happy with a black-haired son too, but Cersei just felt ill.

The twins were sleeping in the same cot next to Cersei's bed, the same place they had been for days. She had only breastfed Joffrey, leaving the other one to the wet nurses and claiming she wasn't sure what to do for two. Cersei hadn't even named the baby; she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Suddenly the door flew open, and in came Robert with a huge deer pelt.

"My Queen, I've brought you a gift." He grunted. "How is the child?"

"How are the children." She corrected. "Over there."

Robert looked confused, so walked over to the cot and was delighted to see the babies. He immediately went to hold the black haired one. "Look at you, Baratheon through and through. A fine heir." He surmised, and Cersei scoffed internally. She watched as the baby gripped onto his finger, and Robert laughed. "A fine grip too! Here, take him." He said as he gave Cersei the baby. She didn't really know what to do with herself, but the baby settled in her arms and started to fall asleep, comforted in the arms of his mother. Cersei's heart melted then, and looked upon the baby with love for the first time.

"I haven't named him yet; though his twin is named Joffrey." Cersei explained. "Joffrey was born first and I gave him a name that suited him."

Robert looked unhappy at the thought, but picked up Joffrey. "So you're my heir then, hello Prince Joffrey." The baby started to cry, and Cersei almost couldn't stop herself laughing as the buffoon placed Joffrey back down, looking nervously at him. He turned to Cersei, and let the black-haired baby grip his finger again as he was falling back to sleep.

"I'll let you name him, he looks like you in any case." She said.

Robert thought for a while, thinking of past Baratheon names that would suit his son. Lyonel, Steffon after his father, and Ormund were quickly dismissed, until he remembered his ancient history. "Durran, my ancestors with that name are some of the most revered in Stormlander history." He said. "Prince Durran Baratheon."

* * *

**290 AC**

Robert watched on with pride, as his son Durran gripped onto his first ever wooden sword. After the King had come back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, Durran had bombarded him with questions about the fighting, and was showing such enthusiasm Robert thought he would allow Durran to start training. Ser Barristan was the one to show the boy how to hold the sword, and Robert watched on as the Knight let Durran swing at him a few times, giving him small pointers on what to do.

He noticed a presence next to him, and saw the blonde hair of his wife in the corner of his eye. Inwardly groaning, he didn't even turn to face her when he asked. "What do you want."

"He's too young." She spat. "Why are you making him start this at four years old."

"He'll be the best in the Kingdom's." Robert waved off. "Unless you were lying to me, he won't inherit the crown, so I want him to be able to make a life for himself."

"Four is too young." Cersei argued again.

"I won't hear any more of it. Go and fetch Joffrey, he should be here too, a King should know how to wield a sword." Robert said.

"I won't forget this." Cersei snarled. "If they get harmed I'll…"

"You'll do what? Bitch some more or cry to your damn Father?" Robert turned to her, seething. "Go and fetch the boy."

Cersei glared up at him once more, before storming off back into the keep. Robert shook his head, that woman just made his blood boil. If only he could have saved Lyanna.

Angrily, he shook his head and drank from the wine glass that always seemed to be in his hand nowadays. Looking back at Ser Barristan, he chuckled as Durran swung too much and fell on his little arse. The boy looked up nervously, but Robert only smiled at the lad, encouraging him to continue.

Soon Joffrey joined them, although it was clear he didn't want to be there. Ser Barristan began the same lesson again, teaching the Crown Prince how to hold the sword and swing properly when suddenly, much to Robert's amusement Durran swung and hit Joffrey on the back. The blonde boy fell to the floor with a wail and Robert stopped laughing, cursing inwardly at the backlash he was going to get from Cersei. Ser Barristan did well in separating the two, and the lesson began again. Joffrey grew angry though, and when Durran had his back turned, the blonde swung at his head, connecting. Durran flew to the floor with a thump, beginning to cry as he held his head but Joffrey kept on raining blows upon the boy. Robert raced down to the area where they had been learning, happy that Barristan had separated the two.

"What was the meaning of that?" Robert roared at Joffrey.

"He… he did it to… to me." Joffrey sniffed, beginning to cry.

"He hit you once as a joke! I saw it all! You attacked him again and again!" Robert roared. Joffrey began to cry, and Robert huffed in impatience. "Right, go run to your Mother. I don't want to see you again today." And with that Joffrey sped away. Robert went and picked up his sniffling son, and inspected his head. "You'll need to see the Maester lad, come on, I'll take you."

For the first time, Robert felt like a good Father as he stayed by Durran's side as his head got treated, and he vowed to try harder from then on.

* * *

**293 AC**

Robert couldn't keep his promise. While the Baratheon King did seem to show more affection for Durran, he still loved his wine and whores more. Not that it bothered Durran too much, the 7-year-old was still a happy child, fairing well in his lessons, albeit not enjoying them, about the Seven Kingdoms, and especially enjoying his training with Aron Santagar, the master of arms in the Red Keep.

Durran also loved to explore. The Red Keep had so many secrets, and while he was escaping from his lessons about the history of the Seven Kingdoms, he decided he should do just that. Looking for the dungeons he was relieved to see the dragon skulls that he had overheard about a few weeks earlier. He took his time studying each one, not knowing which was which until he got further in. The skulls got larger, and the one at the very end, just before a door of bars was Balerion the Black Dread. A massive skull, Durran noticed that he didn't even come up to the top of it's tooth.

A snore made Durran duck for cover, knowing he shouldn't be down here. Sweeping his long, black hair to one side he peered around the skull to see a guard in Baratheon clothing asleep at a table, with a cup of ale set down. Concerned he'd wake the guard up, Durran slowly crept away, to head back to his rooms when he heard a soft singing. Confused, he looked back, and noticed that the guard was guarding a door to the side of Balerion's skull. He moved towards it, carefully ensuring that he was quiet so the guard didn't wake up. Trying to open the door, he was annoyed to find it locked, but luckily the keys were also on the table. Being as quiet as he could he lifted the keys and unlocked the door.

Inside he was surprised to see a large room, decorated in floral patterns. Sitting towards a small mirror was a girl not much older than Durran with long, silver hair. A Targaryen. He watched her from the doorway as she continued to sing the Gentle Mother song, her voice sounding perfect to his ears. After closing the door quietly, he waited until she had finished singing and brushing her hair before he spoke.

"You sing really well."

The girl spun her head around in shock. And after registering Durran was there she spoke. "Who… who are you?"

"My name is Durran. Who are you?" He asked.

"Daenerys." She said.

"You have a really nice voice Daenerys." Durran smiled.

"Thank you." She replied nervously. The pair fell into silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to say to each other, until the door opened again. Durran swung around to find himself staring into the eyes of his Father's spymaster Varys, and he knew he was going to get in trouble.

"Prince Durran, I did not expect to find you here." Varys said in his silky tone. "I see you have met Daenerys Targaryen."

"Father doesn't like Targaryen's." He said nervously, noticing the look of sadness on Daenerys' face.

"He would be very mad if he found out you had been here." Varys said. "Wait a moment while I see to Daenerys, and I'll take you to your mother."

"Do you have to?" Durran groaned. "I won't tell anybody I've been down here.

"I do My Prince, it's a great offence to lie to the Queen." Varys replied.

Durran gulped, his mother would only shout at him a lot, as she always did. Varys meanwhile went and gave Daenerys some things, food and clothing that would last her a few days. He whispered in her ear, and then gently pushed Durran out of the room. Varys locked the door again, and placed the keys where they had been.

"Why is she in there?" Durran asked.

"She is a hostage, your father didn't want to see her live but was persuaded to keep her alive when she was a baby, so this is the best situation for all." He said somewhat bitterly.

"Oh." Durran said, thinking. "She sings well."

"Yes she does." Varys chuckled. "Now, let's go and find the Queen."

* * *

They entered Cersei's chambers, and Durran had the decency to look shamed. Cersei had been speaking to his Uncle Jaime, who upon seeing the arrivals, promptly left the room.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you Your Grace, but I found the Prince lurking near the dungeons." Varys said.

"Near the dungeons? I didn't realise that the Grand Maester had moved his lessons room to the dungeons." Cersei said, looking questioningly at Durran.

"He didn't." Durran said quietly.

"I'm sorry?" Cersei asked him, silently telling him to speak up.

"He didn't Mother." He said louder.

"Then why were you there?"

"I wanted to go exploring." He admitted. "I wasn't going to stay long, but then I heard singing."

Cersei looked shocked at that. Looking nervously at Varys she dismissed him, and called Durran over to her table. "Sweetling listen, I don't want you to go there anymore. The girl in that room is dangerous."

"She didn't look dangerous, she looked nice." Durran responded, frowning. Cersei sighed, realising he had seen the Targaryen girl.

"She is our enemy. You remember that your Father, the King, fought with the Targaryen's don't you?" She asked. Durran nodded enthusiastically.

"Father smashed Rhaegar Targaryen in the chest with his hammer!" He exclaimed.

"Yes, they fought but one Targaryen got away, so we keep the girl to remind him to stay away." Cersei explained. "I don't want you going near her again, do you hear me?"

"Ok Mother." Durran said, chewing his lip. Cersei sighed, knowing that was a sign he was lying.

"I mean it, if I catch you down there again I'll have to tell your Father, and he won't nearly be as calm as I am being now." Cersei warned. Durran gulped nervously. "Very well, now go straight to the Maester, I'll have Uncle Jaime follow you to make sure you go." Durran nodded, squirming away as Cersei tried to kiss his cheek as he ran to the door. Cersei watched him go, before nodding to Jaime to come into the room. "Watch him, please?" She asked.

"Why should I? I'm not a babysitter for the spawn of that man." He laughed, only stopping when Cersei slapped him.

"He may be the seed of that vile monster but he is still my son." She warned her brother. "Now go and make sure he goes to his lessons, and make sure he stays there. That's an order." She added when he didn't look like leaving. Jaime huffed and skulked out of his sister's chambers, leaving Cersei to think about her second son. Nobody had been as surprised as her when the Maester had told her that non-identical twins was possible in theory, and after watching her children, it was clear to her that while they were twins, Joffrey and Durran had different fathers. Sighing, she stood up to go and check on Myrcella and Tommen to clear her mind.


	2. King's Fury

**296 AC**

Daenerys hadn't been able to get that day out of her mind. For three years, she had hoped that the black-haired prince would come back, but he never did. Lonely, she sighed as she waited for the visit of the only person that came to see her. Varys was her only companion, coming for a few hours a week to educate her on her family's history, Westeros and the world. She heard the door open, and in stepped the bald man.

"My Princess, how lovely to see you again." Varys smiled sweetly.

"Varys." Daenerys smiled courteously.

"I bring news of your brother today." He said, and Daenerys eagerly sat up in her chair. "He has left Lys and is moving for Pentos at my request, he is old enough to be leading armies now, and Illyrio will help him."

"Will he come to Westeros? Knowing that I am here?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm not sure." Varys admitted. "Would you like him too?"

"I'd like a friend, someone my age to talk to." She sighed. "I'm lonely Varys."

"I know." Varys said sadly. "If it were possible I'd ask for you to be let out of this room, but the King…"

"The usurper is still scared of a little girl." Daenerys sighed. "I understand."

Varys looked at the girl sadly as she turned away to stare into her mirror. He wished he could help her escape he truly did. "I could see if I could arrange something, to stop your loneliness." He suggested.

"What?"

"Durran Baratheon, the boy who complimented your singing." Varys said, smiling as Daenerys' eyes lit up. "It would be challenging, and I'd need to remind you what he can and cannot know about our meetings, but I'm sure I can find a way of getting him to visit you occasionally."

"Please." She pleaded. "It's not that I don't love your visits, I just need… I need…"

"Somebody of your own age. I understand." He smiled. "Leave it with me, Princess. Although he cannot know I call you Princess, nor that I am loyal to your House."

"Of course, you'd be executed." She said sadly.

"Nor can you call his Father the Usurper." Varys warned.

"I won't." She smiled. "Thank you."

Varys smiled at her happiness, and after leaving some food with the girl, left the cell room to figure out a way to help Daenerys.

* * *

Durran wasn't used to being summoned by members of the Small Council other than Stannis, as he had recently been assigned to his uncle as a squire. He had been asked to meet Varys at the entrance to the castle.

"My Prince, thank you for meeting me." Varys smiled.

"What am I here for?" Durran asked.

"Our mutual friend." Varys whispered. "I know how you can visit her. Follow me."

Varys started walking towards the city, and Durran followed him. "I thought I wasn't allowed, Mother said…"

"Daenerys Targaryen is very dear to me, and she gets so lonely." Varys said. "I know you've often thought on her too."

"How do you…" Durran started.

"It's my job to know everybody's secrets, My Prince." Varys smiled. "If I thought I couldn't trust you we wouldn't be here now."

"Where are we going?" Durran asked.

"You'll see." Varys grinned, as he led Durran out of the city.

They left a gate, and walked down a path that the commoners used to go towards the sea to swim and wash in, Varys led him into a cave, that seemed to snake under the Red Keep, and Durran was handed a torch.

"This path leads directly to the dungeons, specifically where you met Daenerys." Varys explained. "I've arranged for you to be properly guarded with men loyal to me on weekly expeditions to see the common folk, to try and improve the crowns relations with its people. Every week when your Father takes court, you can come and see Daenerys."

Durran was lost for words. They came to a door, which Varys unlocked swiftly, and led Durran in. They came to the door that he knew Daenerys was behind, and the guard at the table turned around.

"Ah, Lord Varys." He said. "Visiting again?"

"Yes Desmond, I've brought her a friend." Varys smiled. "He can come and see her whenever he likes, ok?"

"Yes milord." Desmond grinned, as Varys threw him a pouch of gold. "She's been quiet today."

"I won't be going in today, Durran here will." Varys explained, as Desmond went to open the door, and suddenly Durran found himself staring at the girl he'd dreamed of for years. She turned around, and her eyes lit up.

"Urm. Hi." Was all Durran could say.

* * *

His visits with Daenerys were initially awkward, but they soon found things to talk about and they quickly became one of the highlights of Durran's week, and he was grinning to himself after one such visit as he made his way back into the Red Keep. The girl was often all he could think about throughout the week, but he was brought out of one of his regular daydreams about Daenerys as he got closer to his own rooms by a wail coming from Tommen's. Rushing into his brother's room, he was horrified to find Joffrey thrusting a blade into what looked like the fawn that Tommen had claimed an adoption over. Tommen immediately ran towards Durran, wrapping his little arms around his midriff.

"What in seven hells is going on?" Durran demanded to know.

"Joff… Joff is killing Farra!" Tommen wailed.

"I'm teaching him that he can't befriend animals! They're food and nothing more." Joffrey sneered.

"Tommen's 5! If he wants a pet then let him be!" Durran shouted. "You have no right"

"I'm to be King! I can do what I like." Joffrey laughed, as he started to skin the fawn badly. "Tommen, would you like a new coat?"

"Stop that right now." Durran said, picking up his wailing brother to hug him properly.

"You can't tell me what to do, I'm the elder!" Joffrey sneered.

"Father will hear about this." Durran growled. "Have your teeth grown back from the last time you slaughtered a pet?" Joffrey had murdered a pregnant cat down in the kitchens to see the babies, and Robert had been furious, striking the boy.

Joffrey's eyes darkened, and he withdrew the knife from the fawn and pointed it at Durran. Sensing things were about to escalate, he put Tommen down. "Run to Myrcella. Now." He told his little brother, who nodded and ran as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. Turning back to Joffrey he held his arms out pleading. "You don't want to do that."

"You promise you won't tell Father and I'll leave quietly." Joffrey sneered darkly.

"You promise to leave Tommen be and I won't tell Father." Durran countered. "We're brothers Joff, you don't want to hurt me."

Joffrey looked at Durran with such rage, but put his knife away. Walking out of the room, he stopped before he passed Durran and whispered darkly. "You know nothing of what I want." And left the room.

Durran let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, and composed himself before he went to check on his younger siblings.

* * *

**299 AC**

The past three years had been a time of intense training for Durran. He knew that he need to be a warrior, to help his brother when Joffrey became King, and spent every chance he could in the training yard with Aron Santagar honing his skills. The twelve-year-old was getting stronger as each day passed, working with heavily weighted sand bags in order to increase his strength. Eventually, he wanted to wield a two-handed weapon, either a sword or a hammer like his Father.

Robert had called for a tourney to mark the twins 13th nameday, and after being a squire for Stannis, Durran was entering the squire's melee. He felt fairly confident, even though it was his first true fight.

He found himself in Daenerys' room the night before the tourney. Making the visit once a week for the past two years, the pair had gotten to know each other fairly well. Durran was only just starting to appreciate the woman form, and found himself intoxicated by the elder Targaryen, which confused him even more knowing that his father would never approve.

"So you are actually fighting tomorrow?" Daenerys asked.

"Aye, Lord Stannis finally is letting me enter a melee." Durran grinned. "I've been given brand new armour by my Father. Black as the stag on our sigil."

"I wish I could see it." Daenerys sighed.

"I'll describe every detail to you when I next come and see you." Durran promised.

"You better." Daenerys grinned. She stood up and went to her table, pulling out a ribbon. "I've never given somebody my favour before, obviously, being stuck here. I want you to have it though."

Durran looked at her surprised, and seeing the obvious nerves in her features he grinned and held his arm out. "It would be my pleasure."

Daenerys wrapped the black and red silk around his wrist, and tied it so it was tight enough to stay on, but not tight enough to restrict blood flow. "I know it's Targaryen colours…"

"My armour is black, it won't look out of place." Durran reassured her. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before Daenerys quickly kissed him on the cheek, falling away just as quick. Durran placed his hand up to his face, lingering on the place that her lips had brushed. "What was that for?" He asked.

"Good luck?" She shrugged shyly. "A ribbon doesn't seem like enough."

Durran chuckled, and walked over to stand inches away from her. She may have been two years older, but Durran was easily half a foot taller already. He lifted her head up so their eyes met, and slowly brought his lips down to hers.

After initial shock, he was pleased when Daenerys melted into the kiss, but stopped himself before his urges just took control. "I hope that was ok."

"Of course it was." Daenerys smiled. Laughing nervously, the pair chatted some more before it was time for Durran to leave, as he wanted a good night's rest before the tourney.

* * *

Durran stood in the melee arena, sword and shield at the ready. His sleek black steel plate armour resting well on his body, and a helmet with the stag antlers he had earned from a hunt a year back making him stand out from the crowd. It was too soon to be fighting with a double handed weapon already, Stannis had told him, so he had taken up a Baratheon sigil shield and his one-handed sword. Robert had come down early to watch, and his Mother was also in attendance with Jon Arryn and Stannis, and so the four squires that were fighting all faced the Royal box. With a clap of Robert's hands, a cheer went up from the crowd and Durran turned to face a squire from House Rosby.

He roared an almighty roar, and immediately went on the attack, his sheer strength driving the Rosby squire back to the edge of the arena. He threw attacks at the squire constantly, and the plain shield held by the Rosby squire was visibly denting. Durran didn't let up though, forcing his opponent on his knees before managing to disarm him, as Durran blocked a counter attack with his shield and brought his sword across to knock it from his hands.

"Yield!" The squire shouted, and the small crowd watching all applauded loudly. Grinning, he helped his opponent up and turned to the centre of the arena. Hugh, Jon Arryn's squire, had just beaten a squire wearing the sigil of House Frey, so Durran squared up to Hugh. The Vale squire went to attack, and Durran brought his shield up just in time to parry the blow, as he landed one of his own on Hugh's shield. The pair fought well, as they both managed to land blows on one another. Durran lost his shield first, and frantically defended himself with his sword until he could find an opening, which he eventually did, sending Hugh's sword clattering to the ground. Not letting the Valeman compose himself, he jumped into him. Durran's sword and Hugh's shield both ended up on the ground away from the pair, sending the melee into a fistfight. Durran was grateful for his ancestry then, as he easily overpowered Hugh in the brawl, and a swift blow to the head after a few moments of rolling around over each other knocked Jon Arryn's squire out, and Durran claimed the victory.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Durran held his arms up in celebration. He looked up to the Royal Box to see Jon looking pleased, yet disappointed, Stannis almost had a smile on his face as he applauded Durran. His parents were who he looked for most though, Cersei looked more relieved than anything.

Robert caught Durran's eyes though, eagerly applauding until Durran felt his left sleeve fall down slightly, and he knew that his Father had seen Daenerys' favour on his wrist.

Durran knew that he was safe from his Father's questions while the tourney was going on, and he never actually thought he'd be grateful to be listening to Jon Arryn refuse the guardianship offer from Walder Frey for Robin to be fostered at the Vale, nor Lysa storming off once Jon mentioned that Stannis was to be his mentor on Dragonstone. He half-heartedly watched the jousting, yet still gutted as he lost a bet to his Uncle Renly in the final, as his Uncle Jaime was knocked down by Loras Tyrell. He laughed loudly as Robert won a Valyrian Steel dagger from Littlefinger though.

* * *

Soon the jousting was over, and a feast was being held in the Throne Room, but Durran had been summoned to his Father's chambers as soon as he had finished changing, so he quickly put on a Myrish silk gold shirt and left for the King's rooms. He arrived as Ser Barristan was on the door.

"I don't know what's happened, My Prince." Ser Barristan said. "But His Grace is not happy. And he's sober."

Durran gulped, a sober Robert was never a good sign. Barristan opened the door and he saw his Father, red faced, sat at his desk.

"Father, you summoned me." Durran said.

"Show me your wrist." Robert said sternly. Durran nervously pulled back the shirt to reveal the favour he had received from Daenerys. "What is that?"

"A ribbon?" He asked cheekily, and Robert backhanded him roughly. Rubbing his cheek, he looked up, scared at his father.

"Answer me properly boy or I'll hit you again." Robert snarled.

"It's a favour, from a girl." Durran explained.

"A girl! One from the dungeons?" Robert bellowed. "Has Stannis defied my orders to such an extent that he introduced you to that whore!"

"No!" Durran shouted back. "Uncle Stannis has no idea, I found the room years ago!"

"YEARS! YOU'VE BEEN MEETING UP WITH DRAGONSPAWN FOR YEARS!" Robert roared.

"Don't call her that." Durran snarled.

"I'll call her what I damn like! And she gave you her favour? Are you fucking a lizard?" Robert challenged.

"No! I refuse to sleep with anyone but my future wife." Durran growled. "I don't want a marriage as unhappy as yours."

Robert smacked him again, leaving Durran reeling with a sore cheek. "Careful boy."

"It's true! You hate Mother, and she hates you!" Durran screamed. "I don't want that!"

"What do you want, the Dragon whore?" Robert growled.

"Yes." Durran said defiantly. "I love her."

"HA!" Robert bellowed. "LOVE?"

"YES!" Durran screamed back.

"You don't know the meaning of the word." Robert laughed.

"I love Daenerys, and she loves me." Durran said defiantly, not knowing if the latter was actually true."

Robert glared daggers at his son. "No son of mine will love a dragon. I knew I should have had her killed."

Durran's rage grew. "Don't you dare."

"DARE? I'm the King boy! I can dare as I like!" Robert shouted. "She's using you! Using you so her damned brother can claim our throne!"

"No she isn't! You don't know her! All you see is Lyanna and what happened to her! Daenerys is different, she's kind!" Durran shouted.

"Maybe while she has you under her spell." Robert snarled.

"So what? Marry her to me then." Durran spat, shocked at the words that were coming out of his mouth. "Marry her to me and take away her claim, and further legitimise your own."

Robert was gobsmacked that his own son would even suggest such a thing. "You want me to marry you to that? She'll murder you in your bed!"

"She wouldn't!" Durran exclaimed.

"Get out! If I hear you've seen that blasted girl again, I'll have her hung!" Robert screamed.

"Robert!" A voice came from the doorway, and Durran turned to see Jon Arryn. "Calm down."

"I told you I should have her killed! Now look, she's bewitched my own son!" Robert roared.

"No, she hasn't." Jon said calmly. "They are friends. I've been keeping an eye on them."

"You knew?" Robert asked, betrayed.

"I knew that you couldn't see reason. Think about it, marrying your second son to her not only weakens her claim, it means none that share her blood will sit the Throne."

"I won't have him marry that witch." Robert growled. Durran could feel his anger rising again, and so could Jon, as he gestured Durran to sit down and stay quiet.

"Then don't, just let her have some more freedom, let them see each other with chaperones and observe. This could be good for us, it will stop Viserys from ever being able to gain any footing in Westeros if his sister is on our side." Jon said diplomatically. "The political ramifications are far more important than your grudge."

"My grudge?" Robert asked angrily.

"I understand perfectly how you feel, I've known you for 30 years!" Jon said. "And I know Durran. What would you have done if you had been forbade to see Lyanna?"

Robert sat down with a thud, as Jon's words ran through his mind. "I'd have bashed in the skull of any man who told me that." He admitted softly.

"And how do you think Durran will react if you do that to him?" Jon asked. Durran knew the answer, if Robert forbade him to see Dany and killed her, he would leave the city and his life behind, cursing the Baratheon name. Robert sighed, bashing his head heavily on the desk before lifting it up.

"You feel that strongly?" Robert asked.

"She's like no other noble lady I've met." Durran admitted.

Sighing dramatically, Robert came to his decision. "For now, she can spend an hour a day walking around the gardens with you. You will have two guards and either Jon or Stannis with you. Do you understand?" Durran eagerly nodded. "Right then, get out of here, and take that infernal thing off your wrist. You're a Baratheon, a stag."

"At once Father." Durran nodded, and fled from the room with excitement.

Robert poured himself a large glass of wine, downed it and poured another. Looking at Jon, he asked. "Was I like that, with Lyanna?"

Jon chuckled sadly. "You were worse Your Grace, you were much worse."


	3. Death of the Falcon

**299 AC**

Normally Durran wasn't one to care for the gardens of the Red Keep, usually preferring to spend his time in the training yard. That day however, everything looked wonderful as he strode beside a beaming Daenerys, who was taking in every single flower.

"It's magnificent isn't it." She grinned, gently smelling a purple flower.

"I suppose." Durran said, not able to take his eyes off of the girl. Dany sighed dreamily, before moving on to the next set of plants growing. Durran looked back briefly to see Jon Arryn, Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard and a Knight of the Vale that Durran didn't know, sworn to Jon. He wished he and Dany could have shared this time alone, but he knew he needed to win his Father's trust. He turned back around to see Dany skipping off. Laughing, he ran and caught up with her, ignoring the call from Jon.

"Why do they care so much? Do they think I'm going to try and take over the castle in my pretty dress with no weapons?" Dany laughed. They had searched her person before leaving the dungeons.

"They're here for our safety Dany, not everyone else's." Durran said quietly. He looked around and noticed ladies of the court eyeing Dany's silver hair and whispering to each other. "People still remember the time before my Father, they may not take too kindly to…"

"To the reminder of the 'Mad King'" Dany scoffed. "I never met him, how can they think that?"

"People are fools." Durran grinned. His grin was wiped off his face however as ahead of them he saw a lean, blonde boy, closely followed by a man with half a head of long hair. "Oh fuck off." Durran whispered.

"What?" Dany asked, concerned. Durran just nodded his head ahead of them, as Joffrey and his Dog came into speaking range.

"Well, if it isn't my little brother and his little pet." Joffrey sneered.

"You're one to talk about pets Joff." Durran told him, clenching his fist so as not to try and get too angry. "Walking your dog, are we? He needs exercise remember."

"I suppose you've been giving this whore enough exercise in secret." Joffrey scowled.

Durran stepped in front of Dany, closer to his brother. "You ever speak about Daenerys like that again, not even Mother will be able to save you."

"Careful Princeling." The Hound warned. "Threaten the Crown Prince and…"

"You have to act, I get it." Durran waved off angrily. "Although, dog, how would my Father react if you touched me?" Durran was getting ready to launch himself into Joffrey, when he felt a hand slip into his own. Looking over, Dany gave his hand a squeeze and a reassuring smile was on her lips. Durran turned back round to Joffrey with a smile. "We best be moving on brother, enjoy your walk with your intended."

With that, he pulled Dany quickly away, leaving a spluttering Joffrey turning red with rage. The Crown Prince was likely to come after Durran, but the black haired Baratheon knew that Jon Arryn was only a few paces away, and that he could calm his twin down.

"So, that was Joffrey?" Dany asked, her hand remaining where it was.

"That was my esteemed brother, the future King." Durran sighed. "A royal pain in the arse."

"Are you sure he's your brother? I know you have a temper but you've never seemed cruel like that, he has never met me but the things he was saying…" Dany trailed off. Durran squeezed her hand for comfort, and led her further into the gardens to enjoy the rest of their time that day.

They soon came to a pond, and stopped to take in the day. Chatting amicably, they noted amusedly that Jon and the guards had stopped in the entrance, to give them some privacy.

"See, they may not like it but at least Jon is respectful enough to let us actually enjoy our time in the open." Durran grinned.

"It's lovely. All I've seen for my whole life is the same four walls. I never knew that the castle was so huge!" Dany said excitedly.

"It doesn't just go upwards either, it goes down too." Durran grinned. "I've explored it all."

"All of it?" Dany asked, amazed.

Durran shrugged. "Well maybe not all, but a lot." Dany laughed at his apparent boasting and slapped him gently on the shoulder. Durran grinned, and they fell into silence for a moment. Dany was admiring the greenery, but Durran was just admiring her. Her lilac eyes glistened in the sunlight, and her silver hair was unlike anything he had ever seen when exposed in the air. There was a light wind about, and her hair blew softly in it. Gathering courage, Durran raised his hand and tucked part of her hair behind her ear gently. Dany turned and looked at him inquisitively.

"What was that for?" She asked.

"I don't know." Durran shrugged. "You look beautiful."

Dany blushed, and turned away to stop him from seeing too much of her grin. "I'm not." She said shyly.

"Have you ever known me to lie?" Durran grinned. Dany shook her head, chuckling softly before her face contorted in confusion. She grabbed Durran's hand and rolled up his sleeve gently, revealing the favour that she had given him ages ago.

"You kept it?" She whispered softly.

"Of course, it came from you." Durran told her, as if that was obvious. Dany stared into his eyes in amazement, before they both slowly began to lean in to each other, being seconds away from kissing again when a cough came from Jon. Grumpily, Durran pulled away, getting up and looking annoyed at his Father's Hand.

"It's time we should be heading back, My Prince." Jon called.

"We're not doing any harm!" Durran argued loudly.

"Best not anger your Father too much." Jon countered. Durran swore under his breath, only to feel Dany's hands slide back into his.

"It's ok, there's no rush. I should be allowed to walk again, shouldn't I?" Dany asked Jon, who was walking towards them.

"I shall talk to the King, but today went well in my opinion, I can't see why not." Jon admitted. Dany turned to Durran with a beaming smile.

"See? No need to be angry." She said, poking him. Durran couldn't stay mad after that, and loudly laughed as he began to chase her back towards the castle.

* * *

The King, however, was watching the pair as they came towards the pond that his balcony overlooked. He was seething at the sight of the Targaryen girl, but he saw his son and the laugh that Durran was giving Daenerys, and a tiny hint of happiness appeared in his gut. He quickly squashed it down with a mouthful of wine though.

He heard the curtains rustle, and knew immediately that it was Cersei. "What are you doing here?" He asked her.

"Looking out for our son, same as you." Cersei replied, sarcastically sweet as always. She joined him on the balcony, and scowled at the sight of the two teenagers. "How can you stand it?"

Robert brought his glass up, showing off the wine and let out a wheezing chuckle at his wife's distaste. "He's like me at that age, tell a man not to do something and he'll go and do it anyway. This way we can give him what he wants until he gets bored of the whore."

"Lyanna Stark has been dead for 16 years and you're still not bored of her." Cersei accused. Robert swung around and his palm connected with her cheek quicker than he'd moved in years.

"Careful woman." He growled. Cersei just rubbed her cheek before returning to watch her son as if nothing had happened.

"She's pretty." Cersei admitted.

Robert growled again. "All of the dragon fuckers were pretty until they died. The rapist was 'pretty' until his chest caved in under my hammer."

Cersei hummed in acknowledgment. They carried on watching, Cersei feeling that Robert was simmering with anger as they saw Durran brush Daenerys' hair behind her ear gently. She was happy to see her son looking so happy and in love, but she loathed the fact it was with a girl who had the name to take Joffrey's birth right away from him. "So when are you betrothing him to some other girl?"

Robert looked down at her questioningly. "What are you talking about?"

Cersei rolled her eyes at the man's stupidity. "Well you can't mean to let this go any further, surely. So who are you going to betroth our son to so this does not happen again."

"Nobody." Robert told her. "I've already had a conversation with Jon. As much as I hate it, the whore being infatuated with Durran could be good for the realm. Jon has urged me to consider marrying them and giving them Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone has been abandoned for 16 years." Cersei scoffed. "There are plenty of other matches. My cousins for example, one of the twins would be suitable."

"More damn Lannisters." Robert groaned. "We will speak no more on this."

"I won't give up." Cersei told him strongly, preparing to leave once she saw Jon come up and talk to Durran. "My son shall not marry a Targaryen whore."

Robert watched as she walked off, silently agreeing with her. He took one look back at the silver hair that haunted his dreams every night and scowled. Downing the rest of his wine, he stormed off looking for some random girl he liked the like of.

* * *

**300 AC**

One of the perks of being Stannis Baratheon's squire was learning from him. Stannis had one of the keenest military minds in the entire Kingdoms, and made sure to test Durran regularly so that the Baratheon boy could be of use to Joffrey in the future. A few months after Daenerys was first allowed out of her cell, Durran was in a room with Stannis looking over a map of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Example. The North has rebelled against the crown, how do you defeat them?" Stannis asked in his usual direct manner. Durran looked over at the map, his eyes eying Moat Cailin precariously.

"Send the Reach forces in to the Riverlands first." Durran suggested, moving the specific piece to Riverrun. "The Tullys are tied by blood to the Starks, so we need to make sure they can't mobilise."

"Good." Stannis nodded. "You wouldn't need all of the Reach either, maybe just a third of their forces to truly counter the Riverlands. What next?"

"I'd send a small force to Moat Cailin, not to assault it but to make sure that no army can come from there." Roland said, moving the Vale figure to the Moat. "Then I'd have the Lannisters attack the Western coast. Deepwood Motte and Barrowton especially."

"What about the King's own forces?" Stannis prodded.

"They'd go to Karhold immediately." Durran said strongly.

"Karhold?" Stannis asked, slightly surprised. "Are you forgetting the large houses further South?"

Durran shook his head. "The four biggest bannermen to House Stark are the Boltons, Manderlys, Umbers and Karstarks." He told his uncle, reciting his lessons. "The Boltons would potentially join us if we offered them the North, and the Umbers and Karstarks are the most Northern Houses. Attack Karhold, and then Last Hearth quickly, and the Starks lose a large chunk of their army. Then after all of those have been taken, both the Lannisters and the crown can march on Winterfell where the Northern army have gathered."

Stannis looked at the map, then at Durran and nodded. "Very good, very good indeed. That's a sound strategy. Now, what about Dorne?"

"Go by sea to Sunspear and take that, the rest of Dorne will fall into place afterwards." Durran suggested. "We can't march into the desert from the Prince's Pass, it will be suicide, so go by sea."

"Interesting." Stannis nodded. "And the Westerlands?"

"There is no need to even discuss the Westerlands, Lord Stannis." A voice came from the doorway. Durran turned to see his Mother standing there with two Lannister guards. "My Father isn't the sort to go against his own kin."

"Your Grace." Stannis forced himself to bow his head with a grimace, unnoticed by Durran. "I'm teaching the Prince…"

"You must be teaching him nonsense if you think the Westerlands will revolt. That will be all for today My Lord, I must have words with my son." Cersei said strongly. Stannis did not look at all happy, but bowed his head to the Queen.

"We shall continue this tomorrow, you're free for the rest of the day." Stannis told Durran.

"Yes, My Lord." Durran nodded his head as Stannis swiftly left the room. Cersei walked over to the map and picked up the lion carving.

"You offer him too much respect. He is your Uncle and you are the Prince." Cersei commented.

"I'm his squire, I must respect him as a Lord." Durran countered, eyebrow raised.

"Hmm." Cersei nodded, not really caring for his answer. "You've not come to breakfast with the family for weeks now. That must change."

Durran sighed. His Mother had drilled into them all that the first meal was to be eaten as a family, but Durran had tried to skip it whenever he could. Often, he got away because of duties to Stannis, but sometimes he could sneak away to the dungeons. "All I get is snide remarks from Joff, why should I go to be ridiculed?"

"Because it is proper." Cersei said strongly, before softening. "I understand Joffrey is making things hard for you…"

"Hard?" Durran laughed bitterly. "Mother, he goes out of his way to try and rile me up and get angry in front of Dany…"

"Dany?"

"That's what I call her." Durran waved off. "He's my brother, and when he is King I shall be forever loyal, but I don't have to like him, and I don't have to eat with him."

Cersei sighed, collapsing into a chair, straightening her pale pink gown. "My boys. I remember when you both came into this world. When your Father arrived back from his hunt with a deer pelt he immediately had eyes for you. You embraced him, Joffrey just cried." Durran began to snigger at the thought, before a sharp look from Cersei stopped him. "You are night and day. So different, yet one cannot be without the other."

"If he'd only…"

"He is to be the King." Cersei interrupted. "One day Joff will be King, and his word will be law. Your role, as frustrating as it will be, is to follow him, advise him. Help him to be the best he can be. But you need to stop getting angry every time he opens his mouth."

Durran didn't know what to say, and Cersei took that as acceptance. Smiling, she rose from her chair and kissed him on the cheek before wrapping her arms around him. Durran melted into the hug, it wasn't often his Mother hugged him, but he cherished them all. They stayed like that for a moment until bells interrupted them.

"What's that for?" Durran asked.

Cersei listened for a moment, when recognition filled her with hope. Careful to quash it, she replied worriedly. "Death."

* * *

His Mother's words had worried Durran, thinking that the King had died. He rushed to his Father's chambers, only to find Ser Meryn at the door.

"The King is not to be disturbed." Ser Meryn told him gruffly. Durran was about to barge through when a crash came from the room. Breathing heavily in realisation that his Father still lived, he grew confused.

"The bells, who can they be rung for?" He asked the Kingsguard.

"Now nephew, asking Ser Meryn here would be like asking me what it's like to be a giant." A voice came from behind Durran, and the Prince turned to see his favourite dwarf.

"Uncle Tyrion!" He exclaimed, rushing forward to hug the little man.

"Hello there." Tyrion smiled smugly. "Ser Meryn, when the King has stopped destroying the Red keep, please inform him that I have returned with messages from my Father."

"I'm not a raven, Imp." Ser Meryn growled.

"No, just a doorman at the moment." Tyrion sighed. "Come nephew, let me teach you about the bells of King's Landing."

Durran followed his uncle away from the King's chambers, and they fell into conversation. According to Tyrion, the bells rang for the immediate royal family or the Hand of the King. Not wanting anybody to be dead, he was sad to hear that Jon Arryn had passed away of an illness.

"He was always kind to me." Durran sighed sadly.

"He was a good man." Tyrion nodded. "Now, tell me about this girl I've been hearing about."

Durran laughed, not surprised that Tyrion had heard about Daenerys. He eagerly began to talk about her, causing his uncle to chuckle at the eagerness in his words. They walked down some stairs towards the Throne Room and he was still talking.

"… she makes me these favours for every time I'm training too, I must have about 50 in my chambers." Durran laughed. "I still only wear the first one though."

"Love is a mysterious thing." Tyrion smiled wryly. "It is good to see you happy though nephew."

"I only wish Mother and Father would agree with you." Durran sighed, before shaking his head. "Anyway, when are you getting married?"

"Me? The stunted monster of Casterly Rock? No man would marry their daughter to me." Tyrion grinned sadly. "I'm much too busy for marriage anyway."

Durran chuckled softly. "You're the heir to the Rock though, you need a good match."

"Tell that to my Father." Tyrion said quietly, as they entered the Throne Room. Jon Arryn's body had been laid to rest in the centre, and the Silent Sisters were finishing their work so Tyrion and Durran were limited to the gallery.

"He looks peaceful." Durran noted.

"Most dead do." Tyrion nodded. "At least he's not rotting, you wouldn't think so then."

"Uncle." Durran frowned. Tyrion held his hands up in apology. "He was always kind to me." Durran repeated.

"He was." Tyrion nodded solemnly.

"Who do you think Father will choose next?" Durran asked.

"If he's smart, he'll ask my Father." Tyrion told him.

"So he won't." Durran chuckled softly.

"No, of course not." Tyrion smiled. "No, your Father will choose someone he trusts."

"There's only one man in the world he trusts." Durran said grimly.

"If I were you, I'd find some warm cloaks." Tyrion noted, staring at Jon Arryn's body.

* * *

"Hold it at the point where the handle meets the hilt." Ser Barristan was instructing. A few days after the funeral of Jon Arryn, Durran had picked up a greatsword for the first time, and was going through the initial stages of training from the esteemed knight. Gripping the highest point of the handle, he let Barristan move his hands around so he had the most control over the weapon. "Good, now give it a few swings, try and get as comfortable as you can. These offer less control than a one-handed weapon, but you are strong my Prince, you can cause enough damage with one blow."

Durran grinned, and swung it in the air a few times, trying to get the movement to feel natural. Swinging the greatsword around a few times, he looked over to Barristan to see the man nodding.

"Good, good. Now, head over to the dummy and I want you to hit it on the places I call out." Barristan called.

Durran readjusted his helmet, and made his way over to the training dummy. "I've not used these since I was six." He chuckled breathlessly.

"New weapon, new techniques." Barristan instructed. "When instructed by Ser Arron, you can do as he says."

"I know, when you train me I listen to you." Durran nodded, and took his fighting stance, holding the sword in the air. It was lighter than he thought it would be, but still took concentration to keep upright."

"Right neck." Barristan called, and Durran swung, impacting on the dummy halfway between the shoulder and the neck. "No, do it again." Durran swung again, and landed a perfect hit. "Right side. Left hip. Left neck." Durran swung more, feeling more comfortable with the size of the weapon as time went on. His training continued for a few minutes, when a servant came running down to whisper in Ser Barristan's ear. Durran stopped, and took off his helmet to wipe his brow, when Barristan sighed in annoyance.

"What's happened?" Durran asked.

"The King has requested you meet him in the Throne Room." Ser Barristan said.

* * *

Durran arrived in the Throne Room to find his siblings already there, with Tyrion and Cersei in the gallery above. Confused, he strode up to the Throne and knelt before it.

"Your Grace." Durran said formally.

"Get up." Robert said kindly. "See? That's how you address your King, you may be Crown Prince, but you should learn respect before you expect it offered to you." Durran looked over to see a scowling Joffrey.

"Why have I been summoned Father? I was barely into my session with Ser Barristan. We were finally doing two-handed swords." Durran asked.

"How was it?" Robert asked excitedly, before a cough from the gallery brought him back. "Tell me later. I want you all to begin packing immediately."

"Where are we going Father?" Myrcella asked sweetly.

"We're going to the North, Myrcella. I'm finally going to take you to see Ned." Robert beamed.

* * *

He was all packed, and had a few spare minutes before he was due down in the courtyard so Durran snuck off to the dungeons. Opening the door, he grinned to see Daenerys brushing her hair, just getting ready for the day. He stood admiring her for a moment, when she caught a glance of him in the looking glass.

"It's rude to stare at a woman getting ready." Daenerys jested.

"Stop looking so exquisite then I wouldn't have to stare." Durran grinned. Dany laughed, before she grew sadder.

"You're going then." She sighed.

"I have no choice." Durran said bitterly. "I asked about taking you with me, but my Father…"

"It's ok, I understand." Dany said sadly. "I'll still get my walks."

"You will." Durran nodded. Dany stood, and made her way over to him, taking his hands in hers.

"Don't go meeting some Northern girl now." She smiled weakly. Durran chuckled lightly, before lowering his head and capturing her lips with his own. He felt Dany smile in the kiss, and didn't want it to end. Unfortunately, she pulled away after a long while.

"I'll be back before you know it." Durran smiled. "You'll be with me all the way." He added, holding his wrist up.

"Go on. Don't keep the King waiting." Dany smiled. Durran nodded, kissing her once more before reluctantly leaving.

He soon found himself on his black-haired destrier, a sword strapped to the saddle and looking as regal as possible. Joffrey was beside him on his brown mare, not giving Durran a single glance. King Robert shouted from in front of them, and Durran quickly found himself riding out of his home, heading Northwards.


	4. Winter is Coming

Durran paced his breathing, trying to be as quiet as possible. Ahead of him stood a majestic stag, not quite an adult, grazing on the bank of the river. Keeping low and creeping slowly towards the animal, he held his spear ready to pounce. Breathing in a lungful of air, he threw the spear with all his might.

An hour later, he grinned as he had managed to lift the stag onto his shoulders and carry it back to the Royal camp. He was gaining quite an audience as he reached his Father's tent. Throwing the stag to the ground, he waited.

Robert came outside a moment later, looking red faced and frustrated. "Why am I being interrupted?" He asked angrily, before he saw Durran. "Durran, what…"

"A gift for you Father." Durran said proudly.

Robert looked at the stag and inspected the puncture mark on the animal's neck with his gloved hand. Standing, he looked down at Durran, before he began laughing uncontrollably.

"That's my boy!" He roared. "A fine kill!"

"I thought we could offer the meat to Lord Darry, as a thank you for letting us stay on his lands." Durran suggested.

"Piss on that, we feast tonight!" Robert grinned. "Send the horns to the blacksmith, it's time you had your own true Baratheon helmet."

Durran looked up in awe. "Really?"

"Aye son." Robert grinned. "Come, we'll fetch the blacksmith together."

Durran grinned back, and let Robert put his arm around him as they walked to the smithy tent. Durran was in euphoria, but as everything wore off, he noticed his arm was stinging with pain. Pulling up his sleeve, he winced at the large purple mark adorning his right forearm.

"Fuck, that looks bad." Robert noted.

"The spear didn't kill it the first time, had to get in close and finish him off." Durran said, stroking the bruise. "Lashed out."

"We'll get that looked too first then." Robert nodded. "Come on."

* * *

As the royal party left the woods, it gave Durran his first true look at Winterfell. His arm was broken apparently, and he was forced to ride with his Mother and younger siblings in the wheelhouse for the remainder of the trip. He couldn't even wear armour, having to wear fine clothes, black trousers and a golden shirt to portray his house colours. That didn't stop him from leaning out of the window and being in awe of the huge Northern fortress.

"Sit down." His Mother hissed, and Durran obliged sheepishly. "Don't lower yourself to these savages. You're a Prince, act like one."

"Yes Mother." He said, winking at Tommen when Cersei wasn't looking.

A call went up to finalise formation, and Durran kept his eyes firmly on the scenery he could see out the window of the wheelhouse. They passed a town, where people were lining the streets watching the Royal procession. Finally, they passed through some final gates and the wheelhouse soon came to a halt. The door was being opened by servants, and as Durran got ready to leave the wheelhouse he heard his Father reunite with his old friend.

As Robert hugged Catelyn Stark, Durran took his place beside Myrcella and watched on. Cersei left the wheelhouse and made his way to the Starks as Durran heard the smaller Stark girl ask the elder sister. "Where's the Imp?"

Anger rose up in him, but he swallowed it down quickly. Looking over at the two girls he noticed one was small, boyish and had the look of her Father with the brown hair, and the other held a graceful beauty about her, red hair and blue eyes to favour her Mother's house, House Tully.

"Who have we here? You must be Robb." Robert was saying to the Starks, making his way down the line. He stopped in front of each, making a remark. "My, you're a pretty one." He said to the eldest girl, following with. "Your name is?" to the younger.

"Arya." She replied bluntly.

Robert nodded, and moved to the boy next to her. "Show us your muscles." The boy obliged, and Robert chuckled. "You'll be a soldier!"

"That's Jaime Lannister. The queen's twin brother." Arya whispered loudly to whoever could hear her, Durran wanted to complain about rudeness, but didn't want to make a scene. It seemed her sister had the same thoughts.

"Would you please shut up."

Thankfully Cersei approached Ned at that moment to distract the girls. Ned Stark kissed her hand. "My Queen." He bowed.

"My Queen." Catelyn Stark repeated, curtseying.

"Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects." Robert said loudly to Ned.

"We've been riding for a month, my love." Cersei complained. "Surely the dead can wait."

"Ned." Was all Robert said, and Durran clenched his teeth in annoyance at how rude he was being to his Mother. Ned Stark looked at her apologetically before following Robert to the Stark crypts. An awkward silence followed their departure, until Arya again asked.

"Where's the Imp?"

Cersei, clearly feeling humiliated, strode over to Jaime Lannister and spat. "Where is our brother? Go find the little beast."

Durran shook his head as Jaime left, and Catelyn Stark began directing servants to show the Royal Party to their rooms. Durran however, made his way over to the Stark children.

"Robb Stark, right?" Durran asked, offering his left hand out.

"Aye, Prince Durran?" He asked back, taking the offered hand.

"Right in one. A pleasure to meet you. I hope we can begin a friendship as strong as that of our Fathers." Durran said formally.

"As do I, My Prince." Robb bowed his head.

"Why aren't the others coming to say hello?" Arya asked. Durran looked back at the dispersing Royals, and noticed Joffrey had escaped as soon as possible.

"Joffrey isn't as sociable as I am, and Tommen and Myrcella will follow my Mother, the Queen, around for now." Durran explained. "We shall of course attend the feast though."

"It will be a pleasure to host the Royal House Baratheon." Cat Stark smiled. "Robb, why don't you show Prince Durran to his chambers?"

"The long way around, please." Durran grinned. "Winterfell is marvellous."

* * *

"Over here we have the training yard." Robb was saying, showing the Baratheon over to the small area set out for training. "Swords in the square here, archery through there." He pointed.

"A shame I won't be gracing it." Durran said sadly.

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking…" Robb asked.

Durran grinned. "Not at all. I was out hunting, and a stag didn't like the fact I'd stuck it with a spear."

Robb chuckled. "No, they wouldn't."

Durran grinned, and took one of the training swords in his weaker hand. "One day, we shall spar Robb Stark."

"I hear you're very good. Won a squire's melee at the age of twelve." Robb noted.

"Thirteen." Durran corrected. "Although it turned into a brawl rather than a fight in the end."

Robb laughed. "I wouldn't want to fight you hand to hand."

"Not many do." Durran grinned. "Tell me, what do you do for fun up in the North? I must admit I don't know much about it."

"Ride mainly, the hills around Winterfell are incredible to ride upon." Robb shrugged. "Or train, my brother and I train a lot…"

"You train with your brother? Isn't he a bit young?" Durran asked confused.

Robb looked at his feet nervously. "Not Bran… my brother Jon."

"Ah, the bastard." Durran acknowledged.

"Don't call him that." Robb said through gritted teeth. Durran held his hands up apologetically.

"My apologies." He said. "I likely have bastard brothers and sisters myself somewhere."

Robb relaxed a touch. "You don't know them?"

Durran shook his head. "My Father isn't exactly shy about parading women around the Red Keep. Likelihood is, a number of them have produced bastards. Not that it matters to me, unless he does an Unworthy."

Robb chuckled lightly. "I feel for you then. I've never known life without Jon and I wouldn't have it another way. He may be illegitimate but he is my brother, now and always."

"I'd drink to that if I had one." Durran smiled. "Now, what other secrets are there in Winterfell?"

"Many, most that I can't share without you being a Stark." Robb grinned.

"Pity." Durran laughed back.

"Well, through there is the Godswood." Robb said, pointing to an entrance towards a forest like area. "But it's not really a place for…"

"Believers of the Seven, I understand. What about the crypts? I've heard rumours…"

"The crypts are a Stark place." Robb said quickly, before remembering his manners. "Forgive me, I did not mean to offend, but my Father only took the King down there because he is the King, we don't like others going down there too much." Durran nodded his acceptance, even if he was frustrated. Rob noticed this, and grinned. "I can show you the broken tower though."

"Broken tower?" Durran asked.

"Come on." Robb grinned, leading him towards the tower. "Years and years ago, lightning struck the tower and it caught aflame, leading to the ruin that stands today. We've never been allowed inside on our own, and no Stark before us have bothered to rebuild it."

"Wow." Durran said. "You would?"

"If I can find the money." Robb nodded. "I have plans, but I'm still learning to be Lord of Winterfell, I don't know everything yet and there must be some reason why my Father never bothered."

"Lord Stark was a second born, right?" Durran asked.

"Aye."

"Then that's probably why." Durran offered. "I'm second born, and all I learn is military strategy and common sense really. I'm there to help Joffrey when he comes into his inheritance." He spat bitterly.

"You don't sound so happy about that." Robb frowned.

"You don't know Joff." Durran laughed. "But he'll be King, and I'll be the Prince of Dragonstone with any luck."

"Dragonstone? Hasn't it been abandoned since the war?" Robb asked.

"Aye, but I'll receive it and make it strong again." Durran said determined. He noticed his mother's handmaiden rushing over towards them and cursed silently. "It seems I'm being summoned by my Mother. I'll see you tonight Robb."

"My Prince." Robb bowed his head.

"None of that." Durran grinned, liking the Stark. "Durran."

* * *

He arrived at his chambers and sighed. Laid out on the bed were Lannister coloured clothes. For as long as he could remember his Mother had tried to get him to embrace her family rather than his Father's, but as soon as he could think and dress himself, he had refused as much as he could. Shaking his head, he put the clothes back in his trunk and pulled out fine black clothing lined with gold. After putting them on, he looked in the mirror, his black hair almost reaching his shoulders.

He heard the door open, and in walked Cersei, her hair up in an overly southern fashion and a gown of deep scarlet.

"You look beautiful Mother." Durran smiled.

"Thank you. Why aren't you wearing the clothes I left for you?" Cersei asked.

Durran shrugged. "Black is more my colour, I want to impress the Starks."

"Impress them? Why?" She asked, sitting on the bed and gesturing him to join her. Durran moved over to the bed, and lay his head on her lap.

"Father likes them, I thought one Baratheon should show them something other than contempt." Durran told her. Cersei chuckled lightly.

"Are we that obvious?" Cersei asked.

"Just to me." Durran grinned. "I don't want to like them, but Robb is a good man, we got on well earlier."

"The Starks are simple savages. They life in this barren wasteland and only pop their heads out when summoned." Cersei explained. "You need to stay alert around them."

"They won't hurt us." Durran frowned. "Lord Stark is Father's best friend, we're allies."

"We have no allies Durran." Cersei sighed, stroking his hair calmly. "We have ourselves, our family. Everybody else are only friendly when it suits them. Stark is the same, I remember after the war. Lord Eddard and the King had an almighty row, it seemed like nothing would bring them back together."

"What did?" Durran asked, and regretted it when his mother's features darkened. "Oh. Her."

Cersei looked quizzically down at him. "You know?"

"Uncle Stannis has taught me a lot about history and wars." Durran explained. "I know why Father is King."

"That's why he went down to the crypts." Cersei scoffed. "Seventeen years and I still come second to a dead girl."

"Yes, well Father is a fool." Durran told her, causing his Mother to laugh.

"He is the King." Cersei said softly.

"Kings are fools." Durran shrugged. "The Mad King was a fool, Father is a fool, Joffrey will be a fool…"

"Not if we help him." Cersei interrupted. "You are intelligent, intelligence inherited from me. Use it to help him, guide him. You are the only person he doesn't frighten. He will need you."

"I'll help him Mother, I will." Durran smiled. Cersei smiled back and stroked his forehead briefly, before looking out the window.

"Sundown, we should go." Cersei sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Durran nodded and got up, straightening his clothes and hair. He offered his arm to Cersei and she smiled sweetly, taking it and leading Durran down to the Great Hall.

* * *

Durran soon found himself stood at the doorway to the Winterfell Great Hall next to Arya Stark, waiting to escort her in. He could see she was staring up at him, eager to annoy him with questions.

"What happened to your arm?" She asked him finally.

"Do you always ask so many questions?" Durran asked back.

"Yes. What happened?" Arya asked again.

"Arya." Sansa hissed from in front of them.

"It's ok." Durran smiled at the redhead. "I killed a stag at Darry, but not soon enough to leave unscathed."

"You killed a stag? Yourself?" Arya asked, in awe.

"I did."

"But you got injured. I wouldn't have." Joffrey boasted. Sansa smiled sickeningly up at him.

"You'd need to find your way out of Mother's skirts before you could face a deer." Durran whispered into Joffrey's ears menacingly. He would have added something about murdering cats, but didn't want to upset Tommen behind him. The doors opened at the perfect time, as the future of Houses Baratheon and Stark made their way into the Great Hall to begin the feast.

Durran couldn't bring himself to enjoy it fully though. In the corner of his eye his Father was all over a plump serving girl, and if he looked away all he could see was Joffrey putting on an act for Sansa. Grimacing, he downed his water and poured some more, before tucking into a leg of lamb. Sighing, he looked at the girl next to him, and saw that Arya was about to fling food at her older sister. Grinning, he stole the spoon and gulped the lot down, much to Arya's annoyance.

"Oi! That's mine!" She exclaimed.

"I know." Durran grinned. "So stop trying to share with Sansa." Arya grumbled and slouched over her plate, and Durran tried to cheer the girl up. "What do you like to do?" He asked.

"Nothing ladylike." She mumbled.

"So that's why you and Sansa don't get along, you are opposites." Durran surmised. Arya nodded, and Durran leaned in closer. "I'm the same with Joffrey." He whispered.

"Really?" Arya asked, her features brightening up.

"Oh yes." Durran nodded. "I'm the warrior, I'd rather train all day every day so I can be big and strong when I'm older. Joffrey would rather sit indoors and play with his crossbow rather than truly know how to use it. He's still good with a sword, but not as good as he could be and not as good as me."

Arya giggled, and the pair started chatting about all the pranks they've pulled on their siblings. After laughing for what seemed like an age at the sheep shift story, he poured himself some more water.

"Why don't you drink wine?" Arya asked. "Your Father and Mother do; your brother has had a bit too. But you don't."

"Good observation." Durran chuckled, tilting his glass to applaud her. "You've seen my Father, that's my reason."

"You don't want to get drunk?"

"I don't want to get into a state where I can't think for myself." Durran explained. "Plus, I don't like the taste."

Arya nodded acceptingly, and returned to her food. Durran however had filled himself up, and rose to get some fresh air.

He passed his Uncle Tyrion on the way out, and had a quick walk around the courtyard when a pair of red eyes in a corner startled him slightly. Curious, he slowly walked towards them, grabbing a torch as he passed one. Lighting the red eyes, he was amused to see a little wolf pup, silently staring up at the Prince. Durran went to pet it, but recoiled as it snarled.

"Ghost!" A voice came from behind Durran. The Baratheon turned and saw a young man slightly older than himself with dark curly hair. Jon Snow.

"It's alright. I'm a stranger and I came to him. It's my fault." Durran admitted. "I was curious."

"My Prince… I'm… I…" Jon stammered.

"It's ok, Jon Snow." Durran chuckled. "Tell me about him. How does a wolf become a pet?"

"Direwolf." Jon corrected.

"Impossible." Durran said, eyes wide. "Direwolves don't exist."

"They're common North of the Wall, but these are the first seen this far South in years." Jon explained. "My Prince." He added.

"None of that now." Durran waved off. "He's magnificent. What was his name again?"

"Ghost. He's mine." Jon smiled. "All the Stark children and myself have one."

Durran nodded, giving a last smile towards Ghost before following Jon to the training yard. "You train a lot? Robb mentioned you train with him."

"Aye I do." Jon nodded. "I'm not as good as him though."

"You need to train harder then." Durran grinned. "Damn this fucking arm, or I'd ask you to spar with me now."

"I couldn't… You're a Prince." Jon said, eyes shifting to his feet.

"And? If it came to battle do you think people will scream "No don't go for that one, he's a Prince!" Durran chuckled. "Sparring is a simulation of war, if I was fully able, I'd command you to go at full strength if I had too."

Jon smiled weakly. "You best get back to the feast, My Prince."

Durran nodded, and walked away, giving a final glance to the Stark bastard before he decided to head up to bed, not wanting to go and see the state his Father was getting into.

* * *

Durran was pulling the final few straps into place on his horse as the party was getting ready to leave for the hunt his Father had called. Getting ready, he looked around to see Robb talking to his Uncle, his Father moving over towards Ned Stark and Joffrey looking glum on his own horse. Mounting up, he moved over towards his brother.

"Whoever kills first wins?" Durran offered.

"What will I win then?" Joffrey asked, sitting up straight and giving Sansa a smirk up on the balcony. Durran noticed this and laughed at his brother's antics.

"Nothing, because I'll beat you." He chuckled, noticing his Father getting ready.

"I don't think so, brother." Joffrey sneered.

"Come on boys, let's go kill some boar!" Robert shouted from the front, and Durran spurred his horse on to follow the group. He gave a short nod to Brandon Stark, who was standing in an archway watching them all head off, before focusing on the hunt ahead, determined to match his efforts on the way up to Winterfell.


	5. The Kingsroad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this AU the fact that Joffrey has a twin brother that's more martially inclined has led to him being drastically better with a blade than his canon counterpart. Please bear that in mind towards the end of the chapter.

Finally, after over a month at Winterfell, the Royal party were preparing to leave that day. Durran had enjoyed his time here, but there was only so much he could take of the Northerners and the reminder of his Father's lust for a dead woman. He would be glad to go home to restart his training with Stannis, and catch up properly with Daenerys.

Sat to the left of his Mother, he was digging into a fresh sausage when Jaime asked from opposite him. "How is the arm healing?"

"Well." Durran said, after swallowing his mouthful. "It doesn't hurt when I ride anymore, I'll be back to beating you in duels in no time." He grinned.

"First you have to beat me." Jaime smirked.

"You shouldn't have been riding in the first place. Why you went on that infernal hunt I'll never know." Cersei told him disapprovingly.

"It's expected of him as the son of the King, Cersei." Jaime told her. "Anyway, they weren't gone for long."

"When can I go on a hunt?" Tommen asked from beside Jaime.

"When you're bigger my love." Cersei smiled at him.

"I am big." Tommen complained, causing Durran to chuckle lightly. His smile grew when he heard the tones of his other Uncle coming from the doorway.

"Bread. And two of those little fish. And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burnt black." Tyrion was telling the servants to get him food. He lifted Tommen up to move him aside and sat down.

"Little brother." Jaime noted.

"Beloved siblings." Tyrion responded.

"How were the kennels Uncle?" Durran asked with a grin.

"The company was hairier than I normally keep, but I can't complain." Tyrion said amusedly. "I've slept in worse."

"You've slept with worse." Durran chuckled, causing Tyrion to laugh and Cersei to frown.

"Enough of that Durran. Eat up." She scolded. Durran put his head closer to his plate to try and calm himself down. The table fell quiet for a moment as they tucked in, when Myrcella dulled the mood.

"Is Bran going to die?" She asked Tyrion. Durran looked up nervously. They had barely been an hour away on the hunt when a rider came for Lord Eddard, requiring him back at Winterfell as his son had fallen from the Broken Tower, and hadn't woken up.

Tyrion took a bite of a sausage, looked at Tommen and replied. "Apparently not."

Myrcella grinned. It had been up in the air for a long time whether Bran would make it or not, and this was the first positive report from anybody that Durran had heard. "What do you mean?" Cersei asked him.

"The Maester says the boy may live." Tyrion responded.

"That's wonderful news." Durran said. "The Starks may be grim, but the boy doesn't deserve to die."

Cersei had a momentary grin at his words, knowing that he wasn't as enamoured with the Starks as he made out for his Father's sake, before turning back to Tyrion. "It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain." She said.

"Only the gods know for certain. All the rest of us can do is pray." Tyrion told her, reaching for more food. "The charms of the north seem entirely lost on you."

"Charms?" Durran asked. "The only charming things here are either out of bounds for Southerners or ridiculously enamoured with our 'beloved' brother." He added with a roll of the eyes.

"I do believe Sansa Stark has caught the eye of our young black-haired stag." Tyrion grinned.

"Not at all." Durran countered quickly. "There's just nothing up here but coldness and boredom after a certain amount of time."

"I'll be sure to let Benjen Stark and Jon Snow know that you have feelings for Lady Sansa when I'm off to visit the Night's Watch." Tyrion grinned.

"I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous even for you." Cersei said with a scoff, saving Durran from an argument.

"Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch." Tyrion exclaimed, before turning to Tommen and putting on a creepy tone for effect. "The wintry abode of the White Walkers."

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black." Jaime asked.

"And go celibate?" Tyrion asked incredulously. "The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."

Durran choked on his drink in laughter at that, and his siblings began to laugh too. "The children don't need to hear your filth." Cersei spat. "Come." She said to her children.

"I'm not finished." Durran complained.

"Now." Cersei said sternly. Durran unhappily finished his drink and took an extra bit of bacon and followed his Mother out of the room, leaving Jaime and Tyrion alone at the table.

* * *

The door was closed as Durran got to Bran Stark's room. Waiting for a moment he overheard a conversation from inside.

"I can't do it Ned." Lady Catelyn's broken voice was saying. "I really can't."

Feeling awkward at being there, Durran decided to get this over with so the Starks could grieve alone. He knocked on the door, and waited for a moment before Ned Stark's voice called him in.

"I'm so sorry to intrude My Lord, My Lady." Durran said. "I just wanted to let you know if there is anything I can do, I will. I'll keep an eye out in the capital for anything that can help Bran."

Catelyn could only nod her gratitude, as her hands covered her mouth holding in her anguish. Ned was the one to speak for them both. "Thank you, Prince Durran."

Durran nodded politely. "I'll leave you both alone." He smiled sadly, going to leave before Ned called him back.

"Wait outside for me if you would. I'll only be a moment."

"Of course, My Lord." Durran nodded, and closed the door behind him waiting for it to open again. He was only there for a few moments, and the door opened to reveal Ned Stark.

"I wanted to talk with you on the road, but now seems as good a time as any." Ned told him calmly.

"It can wait My Lord. You're grieving." Durran reassured.

"Bran isn't going to die." Ned countered.

"I… sorry, a poor choice of words." Durran admitted.

Ned nodded his agreement, and the two walked quietly towards the courtyard. Ned began conversation again. "The King has told me about your friend, the Targaryen."

Durran laughed bitterly. "My friend? That's what he said?"

Ned chuckled. "Not quite as nice I'm afraid."

Durran clenched his teeth momentarily. "He's afraid of her I believe, he thinks she's one day going to rise up against him."

"She's a Targaryen, she has the familial right." Ned admitted.

"They lost all rights." Durran said strongly.

"Aye." Ned nodded. "They lost the throne on the Trident."

Durran couldn't disagree. "Dany doesn't want it anyway. She just wants to be free."

Ned wrung his hands awkwardly. "You understand that that will never happen while your Father lives. I remember him, after he took the Throne. Any mention of a dragon and he flew into a rage."

"I've heard the stories." Durran told Ned.

"Stories are one thing, living it is another." Ned continued. "We tried to make him see reason, Jon Arryn and I. He wanted to kill her the moment he laid eyes on her but we convinced him otherwise. I even tried to foster her with my own children."

Durran had a sudden sense of appreciation for the man. "I've heard so many stories about the Quiet Wolf of the North." He began, seeing Ned's distaste of the name. "So many stories about Lyanna Stark too, from my Father and my Mother. As you can probably guess, the Queen isn't a fan." Ned said nothing, so Durran carried on. "I expected to come here and hate it all, but I've learnt more than ever that individuals don't make up their family. Thank you, Lord Stark, for saving Dany's life. I promise you I'll let her be aware of that."

"I did what was right." Ned said, slightly more aggressively than before after the mention of Lyanna. "I'm just glad she's found happiness."

"I hope Sansa can find the same down in the capital." Durran said.

"Tell me, what is Prince Joffrey like really?" Ned asked. Durran sighed.

"He strives to be the best." He said cryptically. Thinking about it, it wasn't untrue. Joffrey had always tried to one up Durran in everything.

"That bodes well then." Ned said, almost relieved.

"I'm sure it does." Durran said quietly as they reached the courtyard. "If you'll excuse me, Lord Stark."

"Of course, I shall see you in a few hours." Ned dismissed him, and Durran quickly left to finalise his things.

* * *

Saddling his horse, a voice from behind him startled him slightly.

"Look after my sisters in King's Landing, Baratheon." Robb said. Durran turned and gave him a smile.

"They will be more than alright." He reassured the boy. "Sansa seems made for court and Arya…"

"Arya will find a way to cause havoc on her terms." Robb grinned.

"They'll be fine." Durran chuckled. "I'm more worried about you, don't fuck up half of my Father's country while you're acting as Lord of Winterfell."

Robb laughed. "My Mother would clip my ears if I ever did anything wrong I'm sure."

Durran nodded. "Give her my best, I fear she was rather hysterical when I went to see Bran a few hours back."

Robb nodded. "This has been hard for us all, the timing…"

"I understand." Durran nodded.

"Bran will live though, and when he wakes up I'm sure Mother will be back to herself." Robb said, more to himself than to Durran.

"I'm glad to hear it." Durran nodded. He saw Robb notice Jon Snow coming out of the stables. "Go, say farewell to your Brother."

Robb grinned. "We shall see one another again, I'm sure of it."

Durran laughed, and held out his left arm. Robb gripped his forearm in a mark of respect before walking towards Jon. Noticing Myrcella struggling to get into the wheelhouse, he ran up behind her and lifted her up, grinning at the squeals of protest coming from her. As she was in the wheelhouse she turned and hit him lightly on the chest.

"Don't do that!" She cried, laughing too.

"I apologise Princess." Durran grinned. He noticed Myrcella staring out behind him towards Jon and Robb.

"Why can't Robb come too?" She asked, slightly dreamily.

Durran raised his eyebrow at her tone. "Has the Northerner caught the Princesses eye?" He asked teasingly.

"No!" Myrcella cried quickly. "I just… I…"

"I'm teasing, Myrcella." Durran laughed. "Robb has his own duties now, with Lord Eddard coming to King's Landing to help Father he must become the Lord of Winterfell."

"He'll do well." Myrcella nodded strongly. "He seems very dutiful and honourable."

"He is." Durran said, looking back towards Robb. "Which is why I'm glad he's staying in the North. The South is no place for such ideals."

* * *

Looking around, he was glad to be out of the marshlands of the Neck. He patted his horse with his good hand, and rode quickly to catch up with his Father.

They soon stopped for the night, and Robert forced Durran to go to his meeting with the Maester to inspect his arm. He'd been riding for weeks against the advice of the Maester, so wasn't looking forward to it. The Maester inspected his arm, and sighed contently.

"Well there seems to be no further damage and it has healed nicely. Tell me, does this hurt?" He asked, pressing down on points of Durran's forearm. Durran shook his head. "Very well, you're cleared by me. I don't want you doing anything too strenuous however. Riding is fine but wait until you're back in King's Landing before you start training again."

"Thank you Maester." Durran nodded, having no intention of following that advice. Robert gestured Durran out of the tent, and they walked together.

"You're not going to listen, are you?" Robert asked.

Durran chuckled. "Am I that obvious?"

Robert ruffled his son's hair. "You've barely gone a day without a sword in your hand since I came back from the Iron Islands. I'm amazed you didn't try and spar with the Starks even with an injury."

"I was tempted." Durran admitted. "But…" He trailed off.

"But what?" Robert asked.

"It's nothing." Durran said, too quickly. Robert peered down questioningly at his son.

"Clearly not." Robert said.

"I didn't want to make it too much worse." Durran sighed. "I want it to be like nothing happened when I get back to Da… to King's Landing."

Robert noticed the slip of the tongue. "You're still on about the girl? I thought the North would set you free lad. Make you give up, see there's better out there."

"Better? Like who?" Durran laughed bitterly. "The only Northern family you'd ever let me marry is the Starks, you've betrothed Sansa to Joff and Arya's a child."

"You could do worse than Arya." Robert nodded. "She reminds me of…"

"Don't say it." Durran growled. "I know who she looks like. I am your son, but never try and use me to relive your deluded fantasies."

Robert grew red with anger. "Careful now…"

"I know you and Mother hate each other." Durran continued. "But you could have made an effort."

He didn't let his Father say anything else, and stormed off back to his horse before he was called back.

* * *

He refused to speak to his Father for the next few days. Durran knew it wouldn't be able to last for long, Robert was the King after all, but he was so angry at the constant reminder of the dead girl his Mother had been pushed aside for that all reason left him.

They set up camp at the Inn at the Crossroads. A popular inn for travelling as it lay by the crossroads marking the joining of the Kingsroad, River Road and the High Road. The Baratheons and Starks had been given rooms for their stay, and Durran changed into some fresh clothes, including one of his favourite bright gold shirts, before going for a walk to clear his head.

He headed southwards, until he came towards the Trident. He could hear sticks slapping together. Investigating further, he noticed Arya Stark and a big red-haired boy pretending to swordfight with large sticks. Sighing, he walked out from under the trees.

"Lady Stark." He announced. The boy immediately dropped his stick in horror, as Arya turned, annoyed.

"Don't call me a Lady!" She exclaimed.

"You are a Lady though." Durran told her. "And pretending to swordfight?"

"So? Lots of girls have been able to fight." Arya told him stubbornly. "Visenya, Rhaenys, Nymeria…"

"All of them could swordfight, but your technique, it's nothing but shameful for their memory." Durran shook his head in jest, loving the angry features appearing on her face. "You'll need to learn properly before you can even pretend to be like any of those women."

"Teach us then." Arya replied, surprising Durran. Thinking, he realised he really had nothing better to do, and this would help mend things with his Father. Nodding, he agreed.

"Go and fetch me another stick." Durran nodded to the other boy. He nodded back and ran back to find one, and came back a few moments later after Arya had explained who he was. "Now then, Mycah. You fancy yourself to be a knight?"

"One day perhaps, Your Grace." Mycah nodded nervously.

"Please, just Durran or My Prince when in public." Durran waved off. "Your Grace is my Father or my Mother."

"Sorry My Prince."

"Shut up! Now are you going to teach us or what?" Arya asked impatiently.

Durran chuckled, and began to teach them the basics that he learnt as a child. Arya had a natural talent, and Mycah wasn't too bad either. After a while, he pitted them against himself, trying to get them to hit him. They couldn't until a distraction appeared from behind the trees.

"Well well Brother, it seems you have lowered yourself to common standards." Joffrey's sneer came. Durran immediately stopped to look at the Crown Prince, and got a whack in the side from Mycah for his troubles.

"Ouch!" He exclaimed, before reassuring the boy he wasn't in trouble and turning to Joffrey. "What do you want Joff?"

"You just hit the Prince, do you know how that's punishable by?" Joffrey asked Mycah, ignoring Durran. "Answer me!"

"No… No, My Prince." Mycah stammered.

"Leave him alone!" Arya exclaimed.

"Shut up Arya!" Sansa snapped from Joffrey's side.

"It's punishable by death." Joffrey said, unsheathing his sword. "Pick up your sword."

"Joffrey." Durran warned.

"Pick it up!" Joffrey said louder. Mycah nervously picked up the stick. "Now, show me what you can do, knight." He mocked.

"Mycah, stand aside." Durran growled, unsheathing his own sword. Mycah immediately ran towards Arya, and watched on as Durran held his sword towards Joffrey.

"What are you doing,  _brother_?" Joffrey sneered. "You think you can stand up to me?"

"You're not hurting any more innocents." Durran spoke back. "I invited Arya and Mycah out here, I encouraged them to learn swords."

"Get out of my way." Joffrey snarled. "I need to teach him a lesson."

"What lesson? Not to listen to your Prince?" Durran shouted.

"I'm Crown Prince. I outrank you!" Joffrey shouted childishly.

"Go away! We were having fun!" Arya cried. Durran sighed at her outburst as Joffrey turned on Arya.

"Fun? You think swords are fun?" He sneered. "I'll show you how fun they are." He lunged at her, ignoring Sansa's protests. Arya skilfully dodged out of the way, and Durran managed to get in the way and parry his next lunge.

"Pick on somebody that can fight back, you coward." Durran growled.

"Move." Joffrey warned.

"No." Durran said, resigned. Joffrey lunged at Durran, who parried and returned a blow. Steel clashed, and both Brothers went at each other like their lives depended on it. It was all too much for Sansa, who burst into tears and ran off towards the inn.

* * *

"FATHER! FATHER!" Was all Ned could hear as his meal with Robert was being interrupted by his eldest daughter. "Father!"

"Sansa, calm down." He said sternly. "What is it?"

"The Princes… they're killing each other!" Sansa exclaimed. Ned looked worriedly towards Robert, who just grinned and belted out a laugh.

"Here we go again. You're going to want to see this Ned." Robert told him, getting up. "Where are they?"

"By the river, Your Grace." Sansa replied sheepishly. Ned got up and grabbed his sword, following his daughter towards the river.

They arrived next to Arya and some lowborn boy, who were staring in awe at the two Princes hacking away at each other. Ned hadn't truly seen a duel like it in 17 years.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Ned asked Robert.

"Only if you want to be breaking them apart again in a few hours." Robert told him. "They've been better recently, but they can never get on. This stops them from fighting in the future for a time."

"What if they kill each other?" Ned asked.

"Ha! They may be fools but they're still brothers." Robert waved off, watching on as Durran brought his sword down strongly, only to be met by Joffrey's blade.

"Father stop them!" Sansa urged, in tears.

"It's ok Sansa." Ned told her. "They'll be ok."

The duel had gotten quite an audience by now, but Durran and Joffrey only had eyes for each other. Durran dodged left, and then right, as Joffrey had gone on the offensive. Seeing an opportunity, he parried Lion's Tooth to one side before kicking Joffrey backwards. They both caught their breaths.

"What's your silver whore going to do when I kill you?" Joffrey asked venomously. "Maybe I'll have to taste her myself, she'll make a good mistress."

That turned off all of Durran's self-control, and he let out a loud roar and charged Joffrey. The blonde wasn't expecting it, and found himself on the floor parrying blow after blow. Durran was relentless, and soon had disarmed his brother. Panting over the terrified boy, Durran spat in his face and growled. "If you ever come near Dany again, if you ever mention her name, if you ever think about her in a way that would anger me, I will kill you." He clenched his fist and lashed out, striking his brother in the eye.

"That's enough!" Robert roared. Durran looked around to see the faces watching on. Arya looked gleeful, Sansa disgusted. Ned looked concerned and Robert didn't really show any emotion. "Durran, get out of here. I don't want to see you until tomorrow."

"Father." Durran growled, still angry. He stormed off towards his room in the inn. He could hear Sansa fussing over Joffrey from behind him, and he also heard footsteps running towards him.

"Fuck off." He growled, not in the mood to talk to anyone.

"That was amazing! Can you teach me?" Arya Stark asked, bubbling over with excitement.

"Fuck off I said." Durran repeated, but Arya kept pace.

"Who was he talking about? The silver girl that made you win?" Arya asked, and Durran whipped around to face her, his angry features scaring the young girl.

"For the last time. Fuck off." He growled deeply, pushing her back. He stormed off at pace then, only briefly noticing the voice of Ned Stark calling for his daughter before he entered the inn. He bypassed his sister and slammed the door shut, before lashing out at his room.


	6. Deception

The Stark's ended up taking the long way around King's Landing on King Robert's request, so the people of the city would know they had arrived. Durran wasn't one for great theatrics however, and as quickly as was allowed to, he made his way into the Red Keep and straight up to his room. Immediately he dropped onto his bed and relaxed into the soft mattress, relishing the feeling of his own bed rather than whatever they called comforts in the North.

The next thing he knew, dusk was falling. Realising he must have dropped off to sleep, he began stretching, and looked around the room. He saw his Mother in the corner lighting the candles. She heard his movement, and smiled softly as she lit the last couple.

"A good sleep, I presume?" Cersei asked.

"A needed one." Durran nodded. "I've missed the comforts of my own bed."

"As have I." Cersei smiled, making her way to sit on his bed. "I need to speak with you. You haven't had word from your uncles, have you?"

Durran thought, and shook his head. "No, the last time I spoke to Renly was a week or so before we left for Winterfell, and Uncle Stannis often wondered about with Jon Arryn at strange times of the day for hours." Cersei looked uncomfortable at that statement. "Why?"

"No reason sweetling." Cersei smiled. "They just weren't at the Small Council meeting apparently."

"I'm sure they'll be there tomorrow." Durran told her.

"Quite." Cersei said. "It's nice, actually talking to you without you ignoring me."

Durran frowned, he had basically ignored everyone on the way back from the inn. "I didn't feel like talking."

"You worried me." Cersei admitted. "After the incident…"

"Incident? Joffrey tried to kill me!" Durran exclaimed. "All because I was helping somebody learn."

"A commoner attacked you, Joffrey was doing his duty." Cersei snapped.

"I invited him to spar with me." Durran said, teeth clenched. "It was my fault and Joffrey distracted me, that's why Mycah caught me on the side. There was no need to start that."

"Don't blame Joffrey for your hobby of playing with smallfolk Durran." Cersei sighed.

"Of course not, it's never his fault." Durran mumbled. Cersei heard, but ignored him.

"It's commendable, trying to break bread with the Stark girl, but she isn't a good influence on you clearly. I want you to stay away from her." Cersei requested. Durran looked confused.

"She's harmless, a bit wild but she's from the savage North." Durran chuckled briefly before a look from Cersei put him off. "Very well, I suppose I'll be too busy anyway with Uncle Stannis and Dany."

Cersei pursed her lips. "That's another thing. The King…"

Durran got up, feeling himself getting angry again. "The King has requested I don't see her? Again?"

"He has put forward a couple of suitable matches for you to wed. Margaery Tyrell, either of the Lannister twins and even Arya Stark has crossed his mind." Cersei told him, looking unhappy. Durran looked aghast at the thought.

"What? I thought we agreed…"

"You agreed she could have a walk." Cersei cut him off strongly. "I didn't raise you to be a fool, Durran. You know you'll never marry the Targaryen girl."

Durran's breath hitched as his emotions threatened to spill over. Rising, he took one look at his mother and spat. "Try and stop me."

Cersei laughed once. "Durran, come now. Did you truly believe your Father would agree? She's our enemy."

Durran sighed, and looked at his Mother almost pitifully. "No." He told her. "She isn't." With that he turned and fled the room, with only one destination on his mind.

* * *

The first sign that something wasn't right came when Durran turned the corner and couldn't find a guard by the skull of Balerion the Black Dread. He searched the small corridor to make sure he hadn't just gone for a piss or something, but frowned as the entire area looked like it hadn't been used in any way in a couple of months.

He tried Dany's door, concerned as he found it was unlocked. Unsheathing his sword, he kicked the door in, expecting company.

He found nothing. The room was completely empty. He stared around, trying to find some form of life but there was none. Going through Dany's furniture, he noticed all of her clothes and personal things had gone too.

Rage filled through him. Expecting that his Father or Mother had done something to her while they were away. He was about to storm up to his Father's chambers when the light caught on something on her bed.

It was a letter with his name on. Curious, he sheathed his sword again and opened up the letter.

' _Nephew. I ask that you do not worry about my absence from the capital. I have returned to Storm's End as Lady Baratheon is unwell, and do not know when I shall return. In order to fulfil your duties, I ask that you explain to the King why I am absent and join me. Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End.'_

Durran read the letter, and reread it, and read it again. It didn't make any sense and didn't explain where Dany had gone. Hearing footsteps come from the corridor outside he unsheathed his sword again, holding it out to the doorway. A moment later, and Varys appeared, looking slightly alarmed.

"Prince Durran." He acknowledged, as if expecting him.

"Where is she?" Durran asked.

"Safe, I swear it." Varys told him.

"Prove that." Durran said, narrowing his eyes.

Varys held his arms up and slowly moved one in to his robes. Durran edged the sword closer to the eunuch, confused when another letter was held out. "She wrote this for you, for this exact moment. Lord Stannis couldn't say everything in his letter because the King can't know anything yet until we've prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Durran asked, lowering his sword and taking the letter. His breath hitched as he recognised Dany's writing. Urgently opening the letter, he took in her words, but they confused him even more. "What? This makes no sense." Durran told the eunuch.

"All will when Stannis can explain everything." Varys urged.

"This says Jon Arryn was murdered and the same people would murder Uncle Stannis and my Father too! How can I not show this to the King?" Durran exclaimed.

"Because you will put the King in even more danger." Varys said, scoldingly. "Stannis Baratheon isn't the sort to run away unless it was necessary for the survival of the House."

Durran sighed, and fell to the bed. "So Dany is with him?"

"I insisted." Varys nodded. "She isn't safe here, she never has been. The Royal excursion to Winterfell was the perfect excuse to smuggle her out."

Durran shook his head. "This is all too much, what if my Father finds out?"

"This is where everything you have learnt comes into play my Prince." Varys told him. "You must only show your Father the letter from Lord Stannis, that's what will make him agree for you to go to Storm's End."

"Lie to him." Durran said uncomfortably.

"If you want to save him, you must." Varys said sadly. Durran looked at Dany's words again, and looked at her plea for him to join her. He made up his mind.

"I will go and see my Father now." Durran told Varys strongly.

"Very good, My Prince." Varys smiled.

* * *

Durran arrived at his Father's door to find Jaime Lannister exiting the room. The golden-haired Lannister looked surprised to see him.

"Nephew." Jaime said, the grin not quite reaching his eyes.

"Uncle." Durran countered. "Is he in there?"

"I wouldn't be stood here otherwise." Jaime told him. He knocked on the door and allowed Durran to enter.

Inside was Robert and Ser Barristan Selmy looking slightly shaken at something. Durran walked over to the table and bowed his head.

"Your Grace." He said.

"None of that nonsense. Tell me, have you calmed down now?" Robert asked.

"A lot, Father." Durran nodded. "I've been given… perspective."

"Oh?" Robert asked, chuckling. "How so?" Durran handed the letter from Stannis over to Robert and let him read it out loud.

"It was on my bed as I got back." He lied after Robert had finished. "I'd like your permission to travel down to Storm's End to fulfil my duties as his squire."

Robert thought about it for a few moments. "I could order him to return." He said.

"Lady Joy may be dying, to force him away from that would be cruel, Your Grace." Ser Barristan told him. "Prince Durran may benefit from being away from the capital and in a new environment."

Durran looked questioningly at the old knight, before silently realising the meaning. Robert wanted him away from Dany.

"True. Tell me lad, do you want to go? Truly?" He asked.

"Yes Father." Durran nodded. "I've been learning lots from Uncle Stannis that will help me advise both you and Joffrey well in the future."

Robert nodded. "Very well then, you can leave as soon as you like. It will be good to have time where you and Joffrey aren't biting at each other's necks." He grinned.

"Of course, Father." Durran nodded.

"And send a weekly raven, it will be good to hear what mischief and adventures you are getting up to in my old home." Robert chuckled. Durran grinned back before making his way out of the room. He stopped by Jaime, who was still on the door.

"So, off to Storm's End then?" Jaime asked, having heard the conversation through the door.

"It seems that way." Durran nodded.

"Make sure you make up with your Mother, she will be beside herself when she hears." Jaime said, concerned. Durran nodded his confirmation, and slowly walked away, thinking of the consequence he hadn't thought of, his family not being with him.

* * *

Having packed his things, Durran immediately went to his Mothers chambers to explain what was happening. The guards let him in immediately and he was pleasantly surprised to see Myrcella and Tommen with her, eating lunch.

"Durran. What a lovely surprise." Cersei smiled.

"Mother, Myrcella, Tommen." He greeted with a grin. "Am I able to join you?"

"Always." Cersei smiled, gesturing to a seat. A servant placed another plate onto the table in front of Durran and he began to lightly fill his plate with fruits and a bit of bread. The table was silent for a few moments until Tommen turned to his brother.

"Guess what Uncle Renly sent me from Storm's End!" He squealed in delight.

Durran visibly thought hard at this, before grinning. "A cat?"

"Yes! He said Joffrey won't be able to get to this one, as his name is Ser Pounce and he's a knight!" Tommen exclaimed. Durran chuckled.

"Well I hope to meet this brave feline knight when I return then." Durran grinned. Cersei noticed his words though.

"Return? Where are you going?" She asked.

Taking a bite of an apple, Durran replied. "Storm's End. Lady Joy is unwell so Uncle Stannis has returned to his seat and requested I join him."

"Can I go to Storm's End too Mother?" Myrcella asked.

"No, sweetling. Durran isn't even going. Your place is here." Cersei said.

"Father has agreed." Durran said. "If I didn't have to go I wouldn't Mother, but this will be good for me."

Cersei pursed her lips as Myrcella looked wistfully. "Why can't I go?"

"Because, Princess." Durran grinned throwing a grape at her. "You must stay here. You're only 11 and must learn a lot more before you go off on your own adventures."

"You're only three years older." Myrcella pouted, before grinning and throwing a grape back.

"Enough." Cersei said sternly. "You're Royal children, not a pack of savages."

Myrcella and Durran apologised quietly. "Please can I go?"

"Durran is right Myrcella, you must stay here and learn from the Maesters until it is time for you to move." Cersei smiled diplomatically.

"I promise I'll write all the time." Durran smiled at his sister. "To both of you." He added to Tommen.

"Is it true that Durran Baratheon married a sea goddess?" Tommen asked. Durran chuckled.

"Durran of House Durrandon, little Brother. We weren't Baratheons until after Aegon landed and his Brother married Argella Durrandon." Durran explained. "And according to the legends yes. That's why Storm's End was built, because the sea gods were angry at Durran, and tore down every castle but Storm's End that he tried to build."

Tommen looked fascinated. "I want to see it too!"

"One day." Cersei said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "When do you leave then?"

"Tomorrow night. We're sailing down to the edge of Shipbreakers Bay and then going by horse inland." Durran explained. Cersei sighed sadly.

"I'll miss you." Myrcella said, equally as sad.

"I'll miss you all too." Durran smiled. "But as soon as Lady Joy gets better I'm sure I'll be back."

"Please hurry, Joffrey might hurt us if you don't." Tommen said. Durran looked shocked.

"Joffrey wouldn't hurt you Tommen, you must be mistaken." Cersei told him.

"He hurt Baelon." Tommen sniffed.

"The cat?" Cersei asked, rolling her eyes. Tommen nodded. "He didn't mean to."

"He did!" Tommen shouted, his little voice rising.

"Tommen!" Durran exclaimed. "Come on, I'm leaving late tomorrow so you won't wave me off. How about you and Myrcella come and help me finish packing?" Tommen and Myrcella nodded, and Durran looked to their Mother for permission to leave. She nodded, and Durran shepherded them out. Before he left he turned to Cersei. "I'll see you at the docks?" He asked.

"Of course." Cersei smiled sadly. "You're my boy, I need to be there to wave you off."

Durran grinned, and turned to catch up with his siblings. Myrcella was whispering to Tommen.

"You can't tell Mother those things! She never believes us!"

"You need to make friends with Sansa." Durran told them.

"Why?" Tommen asked.

"Because if you can spend most of your time with Sansa then Joffrey can't hurt you." Durran explained. "You've see how he is, he'll be nothing but courteous if you're with Sansa."

* * *

His Father hadn't even bothered to come down to the docks. Instead sending Ned Stark to see Durran off. Ser Arys Oakheart had been ordered to travel with Durran, supposedly for protection. His things had been placed onto the warship Stannis had given to him for his 11th nameday, named ' _Sceptre_ '. The hundred-oar monster being manned by Stormlanders for the journey. Ser Arys was receiving final instructions from Ser Barristan, and Durran went to stand before Ned Stark before seeing his Mother.

"Lord Stark, try and keep the Capital standing until I return." Durran joked. Ned smirked briefly, before holding out a letter.

"Would it be possible that you deliver this to Lord Stannis? For his eyes only." Ned asked. Durran was surprised, but nodded.

"His eyes only, of course, My Lord." Durran nodded.

"Enjoy Storm's End. I've been there a few times, it really is a wonderful castle." Ned remarked. Durran grinned, and moved over to his Mother who was trying to hold in her tears.

"I still remember the day I birthed you like it was yesterday and now you're leaving me." Cersei cried softly.

"I'm not going forever Mother." Durran smiled sadly.

"You be sure to write to me as soon as you get to Storm's End." Cersei instructed. Durran nodded, and Cersei brought him tightly into a hug, which Durran melted in to. He stepped away and smiled at her again, before turning and joining Ser Arys on the ship. The call came, and soon they left the Capital, and Durran watched as the lights marking King's Landing faded from view.

* * *

The ship was sailing nicely, and Durran was in his cabin reading a book by Lomas Longstrider on the 9 man-made wonders of the known world. He was reading the chapter dedicated to the Palace with a Thousand Rooms, the now ruined palace in the city once called Sarnarth, now known by its Dothraki name Vaes Khewo, when a knock at the door came. Putting his book aside, he was surprised to see Davos Seaworth enter the cabin.

"Ser Davos? I wasn't expecting you to be on the ship." Durran stated.

"Lord Stannis insisted, My Prince." Davos bowed politely. "There's been some changes to the plan. I'm just here to tell you all is well, and we should be arriving in a day or two."

Davos left quickly before Durran could question the man, but in the doorway stood a boy Durran hadn't seen in years with cropped black hair and blue eyes. "Stefan? What are you doing here?"

"Squiring for Ser Davos. Hello cousin." Stefan grinned, closing the door and locking it. Durran looked worriedly, but Stefan quickly allayed his fears. "It's so we aren't interrupted. I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Durran asked impatiently.

"We're not going to Storm's End." Stefan said.

Durran was shocked. "Where are you taking me then? And where is Dany?"

"Daenerys is fine, she has her own rooms and loves the castle." Stefan said. "We're going to Dragonstone cousin, we'll be uninterrupted there."

"Dragonstone? Isn't it almost in ruin?" Durran laughed incredulously.

"No, we've been repairing it. Father left the capital almost as soon as he'd heard you had left Darry on your way up to Winterfell. We've been preparing." Stefan said.

"For what? Please, cousin, just tell me." Durran almost pleaded.

"We've been building ships, warships." Stefan explained. "I don't know why, but Father is preparing for war."

* * *

It was a clear day as they sailed into the island of Dragonstone. Disembarking from Sceptre onto the longboats, Durran kept his eyes firmly on the jagged castle peeking out over the cliffs. Next to him stood Stefan, not as interested. Ser Arys was being kept on the warship, drugged to keep him sleeping. Durran wasn't a fan, but Davos had insisted.

"So, this is Dragonstone, the island where it all began." Durran whispered to himself. "It looks in good shape for a place that's not been used in almost two decades."

"Father has had everybody working hard." Stefan explained. "We've turned it into a formidable base."

"You've still not explained why Uncle Stannis is planning for war." Durran said. The journey had taken two days, and for the most part Stefan had shied away from the topic.

"I don't know anything, Father only told me that we were soon going to be at war and I needed to tell you that." Stefan shrugged.

"With who though?" Durran asked impatiently.

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." Davos Seaworth said from behind them. "Lord Stannis has his reasons I'm sure."

Durran wasn't happy, but stopped questioning for now. He looked up at the castle ahead of him and began to think. This was the castle Dany was born in, the castle Rhaegar Targaryen called home for most of the year. Shuddering, he hoped Stannis had cleaned it all of Rhaegar's perversions, not wanting to think any more on the man that his Father had mentioned time and time again while in his cups.

They landed on a beach close to the gate, flanked by two stone dragon heads. Durran got off the ship and hastily followed Stefan towards the gate. Archers stood on the two towers either side, aiming down at them.

"Who goes there?" One shouted down. Davos stood forward.

"Ser Davos Seaworth! I'm here to escort Prince Durran to Lord Stannis!" He shouted up. Durran looked up as the guards talked amongst themselves before finally putting away their arrows, and the gates opened.

He sighed at the sight of the steps that separated the beach from the castle, but moved forward, following Ser Davos and his cousin who moved quickly. They entered the castle, and Durran found himself escorted into the Dragonstone Throne Room.

There was only one occupant, and it was the person Durran had wanted to see most. Dressed in a spectacular black dress with golden detailing, Daenerys Targaryen was stood beside the Throne. The doors closed behind Durran as only Davos, Stefan and himself had been let in.

"Dany." Durran whispered happily. Dany smiled, before turning to Davos.

"Lord Stannis requests that you and Stefan join him in the chamber, Ser." She told them, more formally than Durran could ever remember her speaking.

"At once, My Lady." Davos nodded, shepherding the younger Baratheon past Daenerys and into the Chamber of the Painted Table. Durran waited for them to go before he rushed forwards, as Dany did the same and they met in the middle of the giant Targaryen sigil carved into the floor with a fierce hug. They parted slightly, before Durran crashed his lips to hers, and the two teenagers kissed like they never had before.

They carried on kissing for a few moments more, when finally, Dany pulled away. Grinning, all she could say initially was. "Wow."

Durran chuckled lightly. "I've missed you, Daenerys Stormborn."

Dany blushed. "I've missed you too. There is so much we need to catch up on."

Durran nodded. "Why we're here for starters, why we are preparing for war."

Dany's smile fled. "There's things I haven't been told, Stannis hasn't exactly been forthcoming, but from what I can gather, it's something to do with how Jon Arryn died."

"You said in your letter he was murdered?" Durran asked.

Dany nodded. "Stannis knows it all, but from what I can gather whatever Jon Arryn knew, it was dangerous enough to get him killed."

"But why all this? Why drag me to Dragonstone? Why smuggle you out?" Durran asked.

"Because we're all in danger." Dany sighed, holding a hand up to his cheek. "From what I understand, you in particular."

That shocked Durran to his very core. "Me?" He barely whispered. "Why?"

"Your very existence threatens everything, nephew." A voice came from behind Daenerys. Durran looked up to see his Uncle Stannis.

"Uncle." Durran acknowledged.

"Come." Stannis said, moving aside to gesture the duo into the next room. "There is much to discuss."


	7. Long May He Reign

Dragonstone could really be beautiful sometimes. The months Durran had spent on the island had been frustrating for the most part. He still had no idea of why he was truly there, all his correspondences with his family seemed to have been ignored, and all he did every day was train. Stannis was almost non-existent, and the only people Durran saw often enough were Stefan, Ser Arys and Dany.

It was Dany he was with now, as they looked out over the sunset from the steps of Dragonstone, content in being with one another. The good thing about being away from King's Landing is that neither of them felt any guilt whatsoever about being together. It seemed, in fact, that Stannis was almost silently encouraging it. His hand rested atop hers as they watched the orange sky.

"What did you do today?" Dany asked.

"I managed to beat Ser Arys." Durran grinned proudly. He had been in an extensive training routine, learning how to use all kinds of weapons and he had finally beaten the anointed knight with a two-handed blade after months of trying.

"With the greatsword?" Dany asked, amazed. Durran just nodded. "That's wonderful!"

Durran tried to hide his light blush. "What about you? What are you doing, hidden away at the Painted Table?" He asked.

"Learning." Dany told him. "Varys was wise bless him, but I'm learning about every house, every Lord and Lady, everything in Westeros."

"Wow." Durran said, surprised. "That's a lot of knowledge."

"Lord Stannis believes it will be useful someday." Dany shrugged. "I don't know why he won't see you though."

Durran looked down, annoyed. "I'm his squire, but I do nothing." He sighed. "Nothing but train constantly."

Dany smiled, and hugged him gently. "I'm sure there's a reason." She whispered, melting into his grip. He had gotten taller in the last few months, and now stood at over six foot, built like a man double his age with all of this training. He towered over her womanly frame.

He lifted her head up and bent down to kiss her. They had never gotten any further, but every so often they would sneak down to watch the sunsets in private and make out for a while. Usually they weren't interrupted. Today however, was different.

As Durran melted further into the kiss, the bells of Dragonstone began to ring out. Confused, the pair looked up to the castle and saw the large torches being lit in the Chamber of the Painted Table. Confused, Dany noticed a figure running towards them.

"Durran." She breathed. Durran looked over at the figure, and noticed it was Matthos Seaworth, Stannis' other squire.

"Matthos? What's going on?" Durran asked.

"Lord Stannis requests your presence in the Chamber." Matthos said raspily, catching his breath. "Yours too, Lady Daenerys. He says it's urgent."

"What's happened?" Durran demanded.

"It's your Father, the King." Matthos said sadly. "He's passed."

* * *

Durran felt so many emotions at once at the news. Rage, hurt, concern for his siblings, and confusion most of all. After taking in the news and holding back his tears, he stormed back up to the castle, leaving Dany and Matthos to run after him. He arrived at the doors of the Chamber of the Painted Table and shoved them open dramatically. Stannis was having a heated debate in the corner with a woman dressed in red, and Ser Arys was sat with Davos and Maester Cressen at the Painted Table.

"What's going on?" Durran demanded to know.

"Leave us." Stannis said to the red woman.

"Hear my words, Lord Stannis." She said, before walking away, stopping before Durran to look deeply into his eyes before departing the room. Matthos shut the door behind her, and locked it.

"Will someone answer me?" Durran exclaimed.

"King Robert is dead." Stannis said sharply. "Gored by a boar on a hunt."

Durran's legs almost gave way, before he composed himself in front of his uncle and took his place by the table, leaning on it for support. "The letter?"

Cressen handed him the letter documenting the report. "You've been summoned to King's Landing to swear fealty to Joffrey, My Prince."

"Don't lie to him, Cressen." Stannis said.

"I was merely delaying…" Cressen began, before Durran interrupted.

"How is that a lie? I'd expect Joffrey to act so childishly. I'll go and…"

"You will not." Stannis said. "You don't know everything."

"Then tell me!" Durran shouted. Stannis sat down by Dorne on the map, and Durran continued. "I've been here for months and know nothing other than we've been planning for war. I've trained, and trained, and obeyed every one of your requests and hardly questioned you. Now my Father is dead, and I can't go and say farewell to him? Tell me what the fuck is going on Uncle. Now." Durran demanded, not thinking rationally.

"Durran…" Dany said calmly.

"It's ok, Lady Daenerys." Stannis nodded. "Take a seat Durran. I'll tell you everything."

Silence filled the room, as Durran took a chair and sat by King's Landing. "From the beginning. Why are we on Dragonstone?"

"Because nobody would expect us to come here, its strategic value is second to none and we are close to King's Landing. We need Dragonstone as a base, as well as a symbol, when you take the throne." Stannis explained. Durran was shocked.

"I take the throne? I'm the younger." Durran said, shaking his head. "I can't take the throne before Joffrey."

"Joffrey is false." Stannis said. "Jon Arryn and myself discovered so."

"You're not making sense." Dany said from behind Durran.

Stannis sighed. "Your Mother, Cersei Lannister, has committed the highest form of treason. Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen are not King Robert's seed, but the Kingslayer's."

Durran looked incredulously at his Uncle, before he burst into laughter. He stopped once nobody else joined in. "What? That's ridiculous." He said. "They just don't look like me or Father. Plus, Joffrey is my twin, it's impossible…"

"It isn't." Maester Cressen piped up.

"What?" Durran whispered, not wanting it to be true.

"There are some cases in which twins have not had the same Father. The last recorded instance was 600 years ago in Dorne. Lord Allyrion's wife acknowledged that she had lain with two men on one night, and each twin had the characteristics of a different man. Then a thousand years ago…"

"He gets the picture." Stannis said. "Jon Arryn and myself found out the truth, but Lord Arryn was murdered before we could prove it. I fled, and Ned Stark continued the search. Your Mother admitted it Durran."

"You're lying." He said quietly. "You have to be."

"Give him the other letter." Stannis ordered Cressen. Cressen handed Durran another letter with the broken seal of the Hand of the King. It read what Stannis had said, that Cersei admitted Durran was the only trueborn son, and the rest were bastards of incest, and urged Stannis to put Durran on the throne. "The rest of the letter from King's Landing also reads that Ned Stark was imprisoned for plotting to take the throne from Joffrey."

"He tried to put me on it didn't he." Durran whispered.

"He did." Stannis nodded.

Durran couldn't breathe, his whole world was crashing around him. He got up and made his way to the balcony to catch his breath. He felt an arm caress his back a few moments later and knew Dany was there.

"Did you know?" He asked. "Your letter…"

"I didn't know." She said softly. "Stannis told me what to write, and said you'd be in danger if I didn't."

"I don't know what to do." Durran said, pained.

"You do your duty." She smiled sweetly. "This is hard, and I cannot imagine what you are feeling. But if this is true then you are the King now, you need to step up."

"I don't know how." He whispered.

"You do." Dany smiled, and leaned up and kissed him. Durran felt warmth fill through him at the gesture. They parted, and he led her by the hand back to the table.

Looking at Ser Arys, he asked. "You knew?"

"I wanted to tell you, Your Grace." Arys said, using the term for the first time. "But it was best you did not know. You would have demanded to go back and tell your Father and he would have killed them all."

Durran nodded his agreement, breathing deeply so he could keep his calm. "You believe it then?"

Arys nodded slowly. "Unless you knew what to look for, they were subtle. But looking back it makes sense…"

"Thank you, Ser Arys." Durran nodded formally. "You would stay on the Kingsguard?"

"I would, if you will have me." Arys stood formally.

"Always Ser." Durran nodded, and Arys fell to one knee. Durran gestured him to rise.

"We must begin to plan. The entire realm needs to know of this monstrous crime." Stannis began.

"Uncle, no." Durran said, confusing everyone. "I can barely get my head around this right now. We can reconvene in the morning."

"Your Grace, if we don't act hastily…"

"I scarcely believe it currently Lord Stannis." Durran sighed, dropping back to his chair and burying his head in his hands. "We can wait a day."

"As you wish, Your Grace." Stannis bowed his head. Durran shuddered at those words.

"Maester, Dany. Stay." Durran said, feeling weird at giving commands to everyone. "The rest, we'll reconvene at noon."

The room slowly emptied, until it was just Durran, Dany and Cressen remaining. Durran sighed, and looked towards the Maester.

"Everything you know about the history of this… happening." He said. "I want to know about it. I need to know every occurrence ever."

* * *

Weeks went by as Stannis was busy negotiating between numerous different Lords and Ladies silently to try and get them to pledge their support to Durran. The Stormlands had in their entirety, as had the islands that were normally pledged to Dragonstone. Lord Velaryon had arrived on Dragonstone already, and they were expecting more Lords as the days went on.

News from the mainland was sparse, the last Durran had heard was that Robb Stark had called the banners, and the Northerners were preparing to head into the Riverlands to break a siege of Riverrun led by Durran's Uncle.

Having had time to think and learn from Maester Cressen, Durran had conclude that it had to be true. Joffrey was twisted, warped and everything like the stories he had heard about the Mad King, whereas his other siblings were the complete opposite. The old saying about the coin seemed to fit in for any child born of incest, not just Targaryen's. Thankfully he had Dany to help him through, and his mind had become set on freeing his younger siblings from his Mother.

His thoughts were put to one side as a ship was coming in to the harbour. It bore the Golden Rose of House Tyrell, and Durran was relieved to see it. He waited with Stannis as it docked, and off stepped Renly Baratheon, along with Ser Loras Tyrell.

"Brother!" Renly exclaimed, giving Stannis a hug which was barely reciprocated. "Nephew!"

"He's your King, Renly. Treat him as such." Stannis warned.

"Of course, I apologise. Your Grace." Renly grinned, getting to one knee in front of Durran.

"Uncle, so glad you could join us. How were your travels?" Durran asked. Since Renly had never received lands of his own he had made a point of travelling regularly, spending a lot of time in the Reach.

"Enlightening." Renly grinned. "Of course, once Lord Stannis' summons and request came I did my duty."

"And?" Stannis asked. Loras stepped forward, and knelt in front of Durran.

"Highgarden and the Reach is yours, Your Grace." Loras said, and Durran visibly breathed out in relief.

"What terms?" Stannis asked.

"They've mostly been met, Lord Stannis." Loras said. "My Father was disappointed that the King was unable to wed my sister, but the promise of a matrilineal marriage with Lord Renly here, as well as the offer of Lady Shireen for myself when she reaches an age persuaded him."

"She won't marry until she is 16." Stannis said sternly.

"As you command, My Lord." Loras bowed his head politely.

"We should move this through to the castle, Uncle." Durran said to Stannis, who nodded.

"Come, let us talk properly at the Table." Stannis said.

They made their way swiftly up, and the council gathered by the table. Durran stood by King's Landing, but Stannis led the meeting.

"We now have the might of the Stormlands and the Reach standing with us. 100,000 men." Stannis began.

"Enough to take King's Landing." Renly grinned.

"Exactly. It's a start, but I'd prefer more Kingdoms." Stannis admitted.

"You'd prefer, I thought our nephew here was our King." Renly asked, eyebrow raised. Durran butted in at that point.

"I may be King, but Lord Stannis will be my regent until I reach 16 next year." He told them all.

"Wise choice." Renly admitted.

"Which means that you will be acting Lord of the Stormlands until Stefan comes of age." Stannis said.

"I'll do you proud Brother." Renly nodded.

"What news of Robb?" Durran asked.

"Stark?" Renly asked. Durran nodded. "Well, lots actually. He somehow managed to outwit Tywin Lannister."

"What?" Stannis asked, surprised.

"I thought the same." Renly admitted. "It seems he split his forces, and sent a small host of 2,000 to meet Tywin's forces at the same time 20,000 men hit the siege of Riverrun, he's united the Riverlords and gained all of their forces too."

Durran was impressed. "40,000 men in the North." He said, moving the Wolf piece to Riverrun. "What of the Kingslayer?"

"Captured. His forces slaughtered." Loras told them. Small murmurs of cheering swept the room as Loras took the Lion piece by Riverrun and knocked it off the table.

"We should move as soon as we can." Stannis said to Durran.

"Yes, why have you kept in the dark all this time?" Renly asked. Durran sighed, and looked at his youngest Uncle.

"Myrcella and Tommen." He answered. "They're innocents in all this, I refuse to bring them into disrepute because of my Mother's treason."

Renly had a wry smile at that. "So, you need a reason to go to war with Joffrey, that isn't the fact he's a bastard."

"Yes." Stannis said unhappily, still unconvinced at Durran's reasoning.

"Well then." Renly stated. "I may have the solution to that. We can claim tyranny is our cause. Ned Stark has been executed by the delightful King Joffrey after being promised the Black."

* * *

**301 AC**

A week later, and ravens had been sent out to all of the loyal Lords to call their banners. Renly would take charge of the Reach forces, who had been ordered to gather at Bitterbridge while the Stormlords, minus the Dornish Marches who had been tasked with protecting the Southern border, were gathering at Bronzegate on the Kingsroad.

Durran was packing a few of his things when a knock at the door came. Opening it, Durran was surprised to see Stannis there, arms behind his back.

"Uncle, what can I do for you?" Durran asked. Stannis brought his hands to his front, to reveal a two handed greatsword in a fine black sheathe with gold detailing.

"Ser Arys informed me weeks ago how you seemed to be favouring this sort of weapon in training." Stannis began. "So, I had this made for you. It's a nameday present, but I want you to have it now before we leave."

Durran took the sword and unsheathed it. The handle was black, with the pommel being the only form of decoration, being in the shape of a stag's head. Simple, as was Stannis' style. The blade was thick, yet light enough, and Durran could see it was top condition castle forged steel. "Thank you, Uncle. It's beautiful."

"Use it well, and use it wisely." Stannis instructed. "I've taught you everything, I've trained you to be the best King you can be. It's up to you now."

"I'll do my best." Durran promised.

Stannis almost let a smile out. "You remind me so much of Robert when he was younger, but you're smarter, you actually think. He was a good man and a good warrior, but not a good King. Do you know why?" Durran shook his head, he thought he knew why but he knew never to be wrong to Stannis if he wasn't sure. "He got lost in his memories. Lyanna Stark killed Robert as much as Rhaegar Targaryen killed her. He wasn't wise enough to bring himself into the present and rule."

"I'm not my Father, may the Seven preserve his soul." Durran stated strongly.

"And I'm glad. I loved my Brother, but you can be great." Stannis admitted. "I think that's partly down to the Targaryen girl."

Durran grinned. "Perhaps."

"She's a credit to you, never forget that." Stannis told him. "She has a good name, a good mind and is kind. Those traits can go a long way. That's why I told Renly to outright refuse a match with the Tyrell girl."

"I was surprised at that." Durran admitted.

"Margaery Tyrell would be a good Queen, she plays the game well." Stannis admitted. "But the Targaryen, that girl I saved in this very castle, she is the key to lasting peace. Her brother is still out there, somewhere, building an army. That's why you shall marry her tonight."

Durran was gobsmacked. "You're letting me marry her?"

"I don't hold the same grudge your Father did." Stannis told him. "Tying her to you will mean most of the Houses with Targaryen restoration ideas get their wish, while still remaining loyal to us. When he comes, he shall be met with his own sister opposing him."

Durran's grin was threatening to make his face ache. "Thank you, Uncle."

Stannis nodded. "Prepare yourself." He said, before standing and leaving the room, leaving Durran to lie back on his bed and burst into happy laughter.

* * *

They decided to host the coronation and the wedding on the same night. Durran had knelt in the Castle Sept before the Septon of Dragonstone, said his vows to the Kingdoms and risen again with a golden crown reminiscent of his Father's, and was now stood waiting for Daenerys to enter the room. The Septon said his prayers and recited the necessary readings from the Seven Pointed Star, and finally, the doors opened and in came Daenerys, led by Stannis Baratheon.

Durran held his breath, as she looked absolutely beautiful, her hair done up stylishly, her white gown covered with exquisite details showing faint outlines of both of their houses and her black Targaryen sigil cloak fell to her ankles. Dany also wore a sleek crown, marking the fact she was about to become Queen. She was led down the aisle between all the guests, and finally she was next to him. Stannis nodded briskly at Durran and took his place beside his son.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon stated loudly. Durran stepped behind Dany, and gently untied the Targaryen cloak from her shoulders. He handed it to Stefan, who in turn handed him a bright gold Baratheon cloak.

Stepping behind Dany again, he leant down and whispered in her ear. "Are you sure? You can refuse…"

"Cloak me now." Dany whispered back sternly. Durran chuckled lightly, as he draped the Baratheon cloak around her shoulders. Taking his place in front of Dany again, he nodded to the Septon to continue while letting Dany rest her hand on top of his own.

"My Lords, My Ladies. We stand here in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of man and wife." The Septon continued, beginning to tie a golden ribbon around their hands. "Let it be known that Daenerys of House Targaryen, and Durran of House Baratheon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." Durran grinned at Dany as the ribbon was removed from their hands, and he grasped Dany's hand tightly. "Look upon each other, and say the words."

Durran looked down at Dany, and grinned. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days." He said, smiling down at her as she said her own vows. Once they had finished, Durran couldn't tear his eyes from her own as he stated loudly. "With this kiss, I pledge my undying love." Before he leant down and softly captured her lips with his own.

The crowd gathered applauded, and Durran stepped back, holding her hand in the air as he led her back out of the Sept towards the Throne Room, where the feast was to be held.

* * *

The feast was enjoyable. Durran couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so much and felt so happy. He stuck to the water, and laughed at Daenerys experiencing her first true taste of wine. Gifts were being handed out throughout the night. Mace Tyrell had offered a fine destrier that had been sent to Storm's End. Renly had given Daenerys a fine Lyseni necklace that held a portrait of Durran inside. Stannis had gifted them the Lives of Four Kings, a book about Daeron I, Baelor I, Aegon IV and Daeron II. It was a gift sent from Varys that shocked them all however.

It had been sent anonymously, and couldn't be opened by any of the guards tasked to search it. Stannis himself received a letter from Varys that allayed his suspicions, and it was placed in front of Daenerys by Stannis.

"He says you'd know what to do." Stannis told her. Dany's eyes widened in recognition as she tasked her handmaiden to fetch something for her room. She came back with an intricate key, which Dany used to unlock the chest.

Inside were three beautiful Dragon eggs. One was a rich green colour, one a creamy gold and the other a dark crimson.

"Seven Hells." Durran whispered, as he looked at the three.

"What are they?" Dany asked.

"Dragon Eggs, Your Grace." Stannis said, shocked as well. "Petrified I'm guessing, but still worth a large fortune each."

Dany had been lost on the word Dragon. She picked up the green one and held it delicately in her hands.

"Marvellous." Durran whispered.

"Why would Varys gift such a thing?" Dany asked.

"I'd say it's a sign of his loyalty." Durran answered.

"He's loyal to no man, remember that." Stannis reminded Durran.

"Clearly." Durran agreed, staring on in wonder as Dany placed the egg back in the chest. "Have them moved to my chambers." He asked the Handmaiden, knowing Dany would want them close to her that night.

* * *

The rest of the night went swimmingly, although Durran could tell his bride was a bit distracted. Eventually, it was time for the bedding however. Renly was the one to call for it, and soon Durran found himself being hoisted into the air by a number of women, all laughing and making jokes while ripping his clothes off. He was laughing by the time he was placed in his chambers with an equally naked Daenerys, who seemed quite shy.

He stood over her, looking deeply into her eyes. "You're beautiful." He whispered to her. That relaxed her a bit, as she leant up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He kissed her back gently, before they fell deeper into the kiss. Dany jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist without breaking lip contact, and Durran carried her over to the bed, placing her there gently before climbing next to her and claiming her for the very first time.

* * *

"You've perfected the art of tearing up papers." Tyrion noted. The Small Council of King's Landing had just received Robb Stark's terms, declaring the North to be independent, and Cersei had torn it up. "Give him his Father's bones back at least, as a gesture of good faith."

Cersei ignored Tyrion's remark. "You'll give the Starks our reply, cousin?" She asked Alton Lannister.

"I will, Your Grace." He responded.

"Did you see my Brother when you were the Starks guest?" She asked. Tyrion rolled his eyes, knowing why she was concerned about Jaime.

"I did. They have not broken his spirit, Your Grace." Alton replied.

"If you speak with him, tell him he's not been forgotten." Cersei said.

"I will, Your Grace." Alton replied.

"Safe travels, cousin." Tyrion added. Alton left the room with two Gold Cloaks, and Tyrion turned to Cersei. "You have a deft hand with diplomacy." He jested.

"If that's everything." Cersei said quickly.

"A raven flew in this morning, from Castle Black." Pycelle said. "And a raven from Dragonstone. Bearing Stannis Baratheon's sigil."

"Dragonstone?" Tyrion asked. "What in Seven Hells is he doing there."

"Give me that." Cersei said, snatching the letter. She broke the seal and read its words, her eyes brimming with tears. "All of you, out." Pycelle left the letter from the Wall behind, and everyone went to leave. Tyrion got up too before she said. "Not you."

"What is it?" Tyrion asked, concerned.

"Durran knows." She whispered, a tear sliding from her face. "He knows about Jaime and I."

"Stannis." Tyrion deciphered.

"He's told me he won't tell anybody, but he can't leave Joffrey on a throne that isn't his." Cersei says, handing over the letter to Tyrion.

He read it over. "Declaring war on grounds of tyranny instead. Brave move."

"What do we do?" She asked. "My two boys, my babies at war."

"There's more." Tyrion saw. "He's married Daenerys Targaryen."

"What?" Cersei asked, snatching the letter back. Reading the section she threw it to the table, holding her head in her hands. "I can deal with Robb Stark, he's an enemy his family always has been. But one of my own?"

"Durran won't hurt you, he won't hurt anybody in the family." Tyrion tried to soothe. "You'll be safe."

"He'll despise me." Cersei snapped. "Get out."

"Cersei."

"OUT!" She screamed. Tyrion obliged, giving his sister one last look, and he vowed to form a plan to bring Durran back into the fold.


	8. Blood of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold speech is High Valyrian.

**301 AC**

It had been almost a year in the making, but Durran was finally preparing to leave Dragonstone and begin his war. Robb Stark was already winning victories in the West, and Durran was eager to prove himself too. The majority of the fleet including Durran's own ship Sceptre was out in the bay, and only Fury remained close to Dragonstone. Durran was having a private goodbye with Dany.

"You come back to me, ok?" Dany said, hitting him lightly on his leather armoured chest.

"As my Queen commands." Durran grinned. Dany chuckled lightly at that.

"I'm serious, don't leave me alone." She whispered. Durran picked her up and pressed his lips to hers.

"I would never do that." He whispered to her, and she kissed him fiercely again. They stayed like that for a few moments, before a call came from Stefan.

"Your Grace! We have to go!"

Durran waved his cousin away before setting Dany down. "You look after yourself, I'll come back to you soon my love." He told her.

"Stay safe." Dany whispered. Durran nodded, before he walked away to the longboat ready to take them to the Fury. He helped push the boat into the sea and sat on a seat facing the shore, watching Dany wave back at him until she became a speck in the distance. Sighing, he forced himself up to the Fury when they reached the boat, still looking back.

"You'll see her again soon, once we're in the capital and you're on the Iron Throne." Stefan told him.

"Aye, I will." Durran said defiantly. "It will be ours, ruling together."

* * *

They hadn't long left Dragonstone when the watchtower of Sharp Point, the seat of House Bar Emmon, could be seen. Durran was sat in his cabin admiring the castle when he noticed a group of four ships in the distance, close to the shore. He left the cabin and went to find Stannis, who was on the deck of the Fury.

"Uncle, those are Lannister ships." He said when he found Stannis, pointing towards them. "I think that one is Seaswift." He added, noticing the one in the middle. "And King Robert's Hammer!" Stannis took out his far eye, and nodded.

"Get your sword." He told Durran, who nodded and ran back to his cabin. He put on his Baratheon leather armour also, and strapped his sword to his back. When he reached the deck once more, it was heaving with activity. Men were being called to arms and the ship was preparing for battle. Stannis was giving orders, and Durran made his way to the wheel.

A flag signal was sent, and Durran watched as the fastest ships made their way over to the small convoy, escorting them away from the coast. After around an hour, they were clear from any land, and had the four ships surrounded.

The Fury made its way over in order to board the largest of the ships, and Durran was concerned to see it empty. "Something isn't right." He said.

"Go and sweep the ship, I want everybody on the deck in chains." Stannis ordered, and the crew of the Fury began to board. Durran watched from the Fury, as his men began to search below deck. A few moments later, he could hear the clash of steel.

"Fighting. Signal the fleet, we will take these ships." Stannis ordered the flagbearer who complied. He then turned to Durran. "You will have a guard, stay on the deck, it's easier to defend yourself."

"Yes Uncle." Durran nodded. Turning to Ser Arys he grinned. "Are you ready?"

"Always, Your Grace." Ser Arys nodded, unsheathing his sword. "Have you named the sword yet?"

"I have." Durran nodded, unsheathing his own sword from behind his back. "Stormbringer."

The fighting had spread to the decks of all four ships, and Durran made his way on to Seaswift. Sword out, he was looking around for anybody to run towards him, when he heard a commotion behind him. Turning, he saw Ser Arys had quickly dispatched a sailor, and was withdrawing his sword from the man's innards.

More men began running above deck, and Durran immediately fell into his training. He swung his greatsword to the left, cleaving an onrushing sailor in two. With a roar, he kept up his fast movements, skilfully bringing the large weapon from left to right, through the chests, heads and limbs of men wearing Lannister armour. He counted seven dead by his hand by the time the cheer went up from the other ships, indicating their victory. Durran noticed that another Kingsguard had made his way above deck, hacking through Baratheon soldiers and taking post by a door at the back of the ship. Rallying his men, Durran and Ser Arys faced off against the Kingsguard and the survivors.

"Ser Preston." Ser Arys shouted from next to him. "Stand down and kneel before the true King!"

"You're a traitor Ser Arys!" Ser Preston Greenfield shouted back. "I'll have your head."

"You can try." Ser Arys said, moving forwards. Durran grimaced, before focusing himself and leading the charge. Two men died at his hand, as Durran swiped his sword and spilled the insides of them both with one swing.

The number of Baratheon troops overwhelmed the few survivors, and soon the only battle still going was Ser Arys and Ser Preston, former brothers of the Kingsguard both trying to kill the other. Ser Preston was built strong, but Ser Arys had the skill, and skill won the day with a deft parry to deflect Ser Preston's sword, as Arys thrust his own through the helmet of his former brother. Ser Preston immediately dropped to the floor, dead.

Baratheon forces cheered as Durran made sure his protector was alright. After being brushed off, Durran himself tried to open the door they had been protecting only to find it locked. He threw his full weight against the door twice before it was broken into, and what he found surprised him.

"Myrcella?"

* * *

Durran had sat in his cabin with Myrcella for about a day with no conversation between the pair of them. She was trying her best not to burst into tears constantly, and Durran didn't know what to do.

"How's Tommen?" He asked.

"Fine." She said snappily. Durran bowed his head, not knowing what to say. Silence fell for a few moments before Myrcella spoke again. "Joffrey says you're evil and you want us all dead."

Durran barely hold in his snigger. "And what do you think?"

Myrcella sniffed, and looked angrily up at Durran. "I think you broke your promise."

Durran was confused. "I didn't, I wrote once a week for two months, I never received one letter from anybody in King's Landing."

Myrcella looked confused at that. "We all wrote. Tommen, Mother, I think even Sansa wrote once."

"Sansa?" Durran asked amusedly. "I'm sorry sister, someone must have intercepted them all. I did write. I missed you."

"I missed you too." Myrcella sighed. "We all did."

"Even Joff?" Durran grinned.

"He's become worse." Myrcella whispered, horrified.

"I know." Durran said sadly, reaching for his sister's hands. "I'm here now. You're safe. Tommen will soon be safe."

"Why are you here? Why did you fight Ser Preston?" Myrcella asked. Durran leaned back, sighing.

"Joffrey is unfit to rule. His handling of Ned Stark is proof of that, and I've heard rumours about his nameday tournament too." Durran began. "I'm the next eldest, it's up to me to stop him. Uncle Stannis believes me to be the next King, as does Uncle Renly and the Reach."

"You'd be better than Joffrey." Myrcella chuckled.

"All of us could be better than Joffrey." Durran countered. "But Mother and Grandfather will support him, meaning it will come to war. We fought because we couldn't let anybody know we were here, or where we are going."

"And where are we going? What will happen to me?" Myrcella asked.

Durran smiled. "You'll stay at Storm's End with cousin Shireen. You'll be safe there."

Myrcella smiled. "And Tommen can come?"

"When we get him." Durran nodded. "Now, get some sleep if you can sister." He stood up and kissed her forehead, settling her into his bed before he left the cabin.

Stannis was stood at the doorway, unhappy. "You shouldn't treat her as royalty, she is not royalty." He said.

"She is my blood, uncle. She may be the result of treason, but she is the best of us." Durran said strongly. "She will be treated well or else."

"Your Grace." Stannis nodded.

* * *

Dragonstone had been subdued since Durran had left. Dany had the help of Maester Cressen in running the household, but the Maester was old, and it became a challenge. She missed Durran terribly, and often spent her days locked in her rooms, staring at the three Dragon eggs she had been given on her wedding day.

Running her finger over the crimson egg, she heard her door open and jumped in surprise.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" She asked.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. It was urgent I spoke with you." The woman said, the same woman Stannis had been arguing with when the news of Robert's death broke. The woman sidled up next to Dany, and stared down at the eggs. "Marvellous, I've seen these before."

"You have?" Dany asked.

"They come from near my home city, Asshai." The woman said. "The Shadow Lands hold many secrets."

"What do you want?" Asked Dany, weary of this stranger.

"The Lord of Light tasked me with coming to Westeros for a purpose, I believe I have found that purpose." She said seductively. "I want to help you, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I will help you hatch these Dragons."

* * *

Storm's End was Durran's favourite stronghold hands down. They dropped the fleet off at Parchments and left the sailors and soldiers necessary to hold it there, and made their way by horseback to the ancient Durrandon seat. It could be seen for miles away even through the heavy rain lashing down, with the drum tower looking like a clenched fist reaching high into the sky. The outer wall was so thick it looked as if nothing could get through it, and curved so it was impossible to mount a ladder offensive.

They rode up towards Durran's Point, the cliff on which the castle was built, and Stannis and Durran led the procession through the first gates. The wall on the land side of the castle was around 40 feet thick, and it took a while before they arrived into the courtyard, where Ser Cortnay Penrose was waiting for them. The castellan knelt before Durran, who got off of his horse and bit the knight to rise.

"Storm's End is yours, Your Grace."

"Thank you, Ser Cortnay." Durran shouted over the howling winds. "Let us get inside!"

The party quickly made their way inside, and hot drinks and food were brought into the feast hall for all. Myrcella quickly ate as much as she could, still shivering from the wet and cold. As the meals were finishing, the doors opened to reveal Lady Joy Baratheon, and Stannis' remaining children Shireen and Davos.

Shireen had caught greyscale as a child, and it was only by the graces of the Gods it seemed that she survived with only half of her face scarred. It didn't diminish her character though, as the girl was always a bubbly personality. Davos on the other hand was more like his Father than any other Baratheon. Quiet, but calculating, the 9-year-old stayed by his Mother's side, while Shireen came bundling up to her cousins.

"Cousin! How are you?" She asked, hugging both a soggy Myrcella and Durran.

"Well thank you Shireen. How are you?" Durran asked amusedly.

"Well enough, I wish the weather would clear, it's been raining for a week." She sighed dramatically. Durran chuckled, as Stannis came over.

"Shireen, Durran is your King now, remember." He said sternly. Shireen's eyes widened, and she hastily curtseyed.

"That's ok Uncle, this isn't a formal occasion and we are family after all." Durran said pointedly. He stood up to acknowledge little Davos. "Hello Davos."

"Your Grace." Davos said politely, bowing his head.

"Your Grace, a pleasure to see you again." Lady Joy smiled, curtseying. "If it please you, Shireen and Davos could take Princess Myrcella up to her chambers to dry off and change into different clothing." Durran nodded, making sure Myrcella was finished before watching them depart the room. Joy's expression turned serious at that moment, turning to Stannis. "There are a few things that require your attention, Lord Husband. 10,000 Dornishman have been spotted gathering in the Red Mountains." She told him.

"Have the Marcher Lords gather at the border. They can hold the Dornish back." Stannis suggested.

"Already done." Joy nodded. "Renly has sent word from Bitterbridge. 60,000 men are in his force, with another 40,000 prepared at various castles if they are needed.

"Good." Stannis nodded. "I'll write to him myself when we finalise the plans. Anything else?"

Durran watched in awe as Lord and Lady Baratheon spoke efficiently back and forth, realising how formidable a team they were. Minor things were decided about the running of the Stormlands when finally, Joy turned to Durran.

"There's also an Arstan Whitebeard here to see you, Your Grace. I've placed him in the Lord's Solar if you'd like to make your way up." Joy told him.

"Of course." Durran nodded. "I'm mostly dry now, I shall head up immediately."

"I shall join you." Stannis nodded, embracing his wife formally and allowing her to fawn over Stefan as Durran and Ser Arys followed Stannis up to his solar.

Stannis opened the door, and Durran walked in to be surprised by who was sat in there. "Ser Barristan?"

Ser Barristan Selmy stood up and immediately dropped to his knee. "Your Grace."

"Stand Ser. I was not expecting you." Durran admitted happily.

"Why are you not in King's Landing Ser?" Stannis asked.

Barristan spat on the floor. "The Queen Mother and King decided I was too old to protect the crown. I see them for what they are. I know you are fighting for the crown, Your Grace and I humbly ask, no, I beg you to allow me to serve you as your Kingsguard. I will protect you, fight for you, die for you if needs be."

Durran almost laughed at the idiocy of his brother, but kept his regal mind. "What happened to my Father? Were you on the hunt?"

Barristan looked down solemnly. "I was, Your Grace. I failed him. I wasn't close enough to the boar to save him. He was drunk, and missed his swing."

"I don't blame you for his death." Durran reassured. "I blame King Robert, to be so drunk that even he misses a swing."

"If I may, Your Grace." Barristan said. "He hadn't drunk as much as usual on his hunts."

Durran looked questioningly at the man. "Explain." Stannis said.

"He had drunk less than usual, but I tasted the wine afterwards, to look for poisons or anything strange." Barristan told them. "It was strong, stronger than normal."

Silence fell over the room. "Who gave him the wine?" Durran asked quietly.

"His squire." Barristan shrugged.

"Lancel." Durran growled. "A Lannister puppet."

"Careful, Your Grace." Stannis warned. "False assumptions…"

"Lead to greater trouble yes I know." Durran snapped. "But I want to speak to Lancel when I can."

"Of course." Stannis nodded. Durran turned to the old knight.

"Ser Barristan, Joffrey is a fool if he believes you too old for service. You taught me almost everything I know about chivalry and fighting. I would be honoured if you would be Lord Commander of my Kingsguard." Durran said, offering out his hand to shake. Barristan looked at the hand warily, before firmly shaking it.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Barristan breathed out happily. "I shall not fail you."

"Ser Arys, you and Ser Barristan should go to the smiths for some different armour." Durran said. "If that's ok with my Uncle."

"Storm's End is yours, Your Grace." Stannis said. Durran grinned.

"I'm thinking black armour with gold details…"

* * *

The city had barely recovered from the riots after Myrcella had left on the boat. There was still discontent on the street, and Cersei wouldn't allow Joffrey or Tommen to step foot outside the Red Keep.

The Small Council had gathered for its daily meeting. Tyrion, as usual, was the last one to enter. Waddling in he took his seat.

"Now then, what has happened since we last met?" He asked jovially.

"Lots, actually." Varys told them. "Robb Stark has taken the Crag."

"The Crag? A worthless castle home to spice merchants." Cersei spat. "Let him keep it so long as he stays there."

"Even so, Sister." Tyrion said. "It sets a dangerous precedent and is far too close to Casterly Rock, especially after decimating two of our armies. What is my Father doing?" He asked Varys.

"He remains at Harrenhal, My Lord." Varys told him.

"Why doesn't he go and deal with Stark?" Cersei asked.

"Father always has his reasons. Anyway, it's not Stark I'm worried about at the moment." Tyrion admitted. "What about in the South?"

"Renly Baratheon has begun to march." Varys told them. Tyrion swore.

"How long till he's here?"

"I don't know." Varys admitted, his voice raising. "He's marching east."

"East? What's east of Bitterbridge?" Tyrion asked rhetorically. He summoned a servant to get a map of the continent, and looked over the area in question. "Fawnton I suppose."

"Wendwater." Cersei told him, concern in her tone. "If they take Wendwater then they control the sea from Dorne to Cracklaw Point."

"Well spotted." Tyrion praised. "They'll look to take the castle, giving them a clear path to King's Landing." He turned to Varys. "Send word to Lord Wendwater to shore up his defences."

"Of course, My Lord." Varys bowed his head.

"What of Durran?" Cersei asked.

"My little birds confirmed that he was never in Storm's End at all, Stannis did take him to Dragonstone too." Varys explained. "They sailed for Storm's End however a couple of weeks ago. A raven from Lord Bar Emmon claims that the Baratheon Fleet intercepted our convoy to Dorne, while another raven from Lord Massey confirms he didn't see the convoy as planned."

Cersei was silent with rage. Tyrion asked the question for her. "Myrcella?"

"Safe." Varys assured, pulling out another letter and handing it to Cersei. "This came from Storm's End."

Cersei snatched it as fast as she could, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Durran's writing. "Durran has Myrcella, and is keeping her safe."

"We are at war, what if he uses her against the King?" Varys asked.

"You don't know my son." Cersei told the eunuch. "He wrote that his sister is safe and will remain so."

Tyrion knew that Durran was meaning he still cared for his siblings, and was relieved at that. "Then the only thing we need to worry about is Dorne."

"The Dornish are your problem." Cersei snapped. "You sold Myrcella to them in the first place, you deal with it." With that she rose from her chair and left the room, leaving Tyrion to talk to Varys about the defence of the city.

* * *

Bronzegate was visible in the distance, along with the Kingswood behind it, and Durran could see the encamped 15,000 men just before the castle, but his eyes were on the hills and fields around him. Stefan was riding to his left.

"This is where our House truly began." Durran explained. "Have you read about the Last Storm?"

"The battle between Argillac Durrandon and Orys Baratheon?" Stefan asked.

"Yes. Argillac had twice the forces, but Meraxes slew his horse and Orys Baratheon killed him, making the Stormlanders flee." Durran explained. "It happened here."

"One day, people will think the same when they are in the place of your battles." Stefan grinned. Durran laughed.

"Perhaps." He nodded, and they rode on for Bronzegate, the seat of House Buckler.

They entered the camp to see men kneeling by the side of the Kingsroad, all the way past the turning that led into the castle. Banners from all over the Stormlands were on show, House Tarth, House Estermont, House Grandison, House Wylde and all of their vassals were camped outside as well as the forces of House Buckler. He nodded to everyone he could, until they passed the huge bronze gate that the Castle was named for.

They were ushered into the Bronzegate council room, where the major Stormlords had gathered. As soon as Durran, Stannis and the other Lords that travelled with them entered the room, everybody sank to one knee in front of Durran.

"Please, My Lords. Rise." Durran told them all. "I thank you all for your loyalty. What is the state of things?"

Lord Ralph Buckler showed him to the map of Southern Westeros where all the figures had been placed. "We have 15,000 men here at Bronzegate Your Grace. All ready and waiting to move on your orders."

"Lord Stannis' orders." Durran corrected. "He is my regent, he will be commander of my forces."

"Of course, Your Grace. On Lord Stannis' orders." Ralph Buckler corrected himself.

"Very good. What of Renly?" Stannis asked.

"Last we'd heard he had taken Dalston Keep in Your Grace's name." Ser Luthor Grandison, standing in for his Father Lord Hugh, said. "Lord Barth has tasked his brother to keep an eye on things as best they can from Fawnton."

"Good news." Durran said.

"Quite." Stannis said, taking a look at the map. He moved a stag figure to the Dornish Marches. "Lords Dondarrion and Swann have moved their forces to the border to keep an eye on the Dornish. And what of the Crownlanders?"

"No movement so close to Bronzegate yet, Lord Stannis." Ralph Buckler told them. "Our scouts show that House Wendwater are preparing for a siege."

"They know we're coming." Durran surmised.

"Yes, but no matter. They also know Renly is coming from the North with more men. All they are doing is buying the capital time." Stannis said.

"We have had no news from further North." Lord Eldon Estermont, Durran's Great Grandfather, told them.

"Robb Stark has been pillaging the Westerlands last we've heard." Stannis explained. "Tywin Lannister sits at Harrenhal, torn between two armies."

Murmurs of happiness spread around the table. "What will he do?" Lord Harwood Fell, the youngest Lord at the table, asked.

"Sit at Harrenhal for now. We need to break through at Wendwater before we can truly besiege King's Landing." Stannis told them. "I don't want any surprises when we march on King's Landing."

"Why not just sail there? We have the numbers, why waste men on Wendwater?" Ser Richard Morrigen asked.

"Because I want control of the Kingsroad." Stannis explained. "If we can control both the Southern roads leading to the capital, our supply trains can run half the country freely. We will attack by sea as well My Lords, but Wendwater is our first step. Ours is a war to overthrow an unfit ruler, we must show we are strong, we are united, and we are victorious. Wendwater hasn't seen war on its lands since the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion, let's go and take it for our King!"

Cheers and shouts went up around the table, and Durran smiled to himself. The plans for the attack were being made, and finally, his war would begin.

* * *

Dany stood outside of the castle not entirely convinced that this Melisandre could do what she claimed. She had let the woman leech her carefully, and stood on the beaches of Dragonstone late at night, watching the Red Woman build a pyre.

" **Lord of Light, I pray for your fire.** " She prayed loudly. Suddenly the pyre burst into flames, taking Dany aback.

"Your Grace, what's going on?" Maester Cressen asked from behind Dany. Dany turned.

"This woman says she can hatch the eggs." Dany told him. "I'm letting her try with one."

"Your Grace, I must protest..." Maester Cressen began.

"Fire will not harm the eggs, Maester Cressen." Dany told him kindly. "If it does not work, nothing will happen. Stay, watch." She insisted.

The Red Woman continued her enchantments, before walking over to Dany and peering into the chest at the young Queen's feet. She held her hands over each of the eggs, before picking up the white one. Taking one of the leeches prepared earlier, she let it rest on the egg before making her way to the burning pyre. The fire seemed to move aside for her as she lay the egg down on the wood, before moving back. Dany watched as the egg was engulfed in flames.

Not much happened at first, but a squelch sounded from the fire as the leech exploded, followed by a loud crack. Dany could hear Cressen whispering his prayers behind her, but she was enthralled in what was happening. She couldn't say what made her move, but she picked up the two remaining eggs, and walked towards the fire. She felt Melisandre place more leeches on her as she moved forwards, but didn't stop. Nothing mattered, there was no noise but the fire to Daenerys as she stepped onto the pyre to find a tiny, cream and golden dragon climbing up her burning dress, followed by two other loud cracks.

The next thing Dany knew, was a large crowd gathering at dawn the next day. Standing up from a crouched position, she could feel the breeze whip around her now naked body, her only protection from the cold being the three, warm, reptile like creatures suckling at her breast.


	9. Wendwater

Durran woke up to the sound of men working. Putting on his armour and sword, he left his tent to see men digging trenches, cutting down the trees that surrounded Wendwater Castle to build siege weapons, and training. They had crossed the Wendwater Bridge the day before, and had spread themselves evenly around the castle that lay on the Northern bank of the Wendwater River. After looking up at the small fortress that controlled the border between the Stormlands and the Crownlands, Durran made his way to the command tent, where Stannis spent his days. The Baratheon Lord was finalising a letter to be sent to Lord Reynard Wendwater.

"How goes the day Uncle?" Durran asked chirpily.

"Well. We've the castle surrounded. Our ships have blocked the river at the Narrow Sea, the only help they can get now is from Attadale to the east." Stannis told him.

"Shouldn't we stop that, blockade it or something?" Durran asked.

"No need." Stannis said, handing Durran a letter. It had the broken seal of Renly's new sigil on, the Baratheon Stag but House Tyrell colours.

"We have laid siege to Attadale. Wendwater has no more allies." Durran read out. "Perfect."

"Quite, I'm surprised at his efficiency." Stannis admitted.

"He has 60,000 men and Randyll Tarly." Durran laughed. "I'd be surprised if he hadn't been efficient.

"Hmm." Was Stannis' only response. They waited in silence as Stannis finished the letter, before handing it to Matthos. "Make sure this makes its way into the castle. Lord Wendwater must see our demands."

"My Lord." Matthos replied. He left the tent, but immediately after him Stefan came in. The young man being his Father's new squire now Durran was King.

"Your Grace, Father." He said, panting.

"What is it?" Stannis asked.

"Something in the sky." Was all Stefan said before he rushed out. Durran followed his uncle to find the men had all stopped, and were staring up at a beaming red comet.

"What in all Seven Hells…" Durran began. Stannis meanwhile, was more concerned about the lack of work and began shouting at the men to move on.

"Lord Wendwater claims it's an omen of a Lannister victory." Stefan said. "His men have been shouting about it on the battlements."

Durran smirked, and looked towards the small, yet well-fortified castle. "Well then, let's go and remind Lord Wendwater what House my Mother hails from."

* * *

Tyrion Lannister was stood on his balcony in the Red Keep watching the sky. The Red Comet burned brightly above, and the entire city below seemed to be staring up at it. Tyrion didn't know what it meant, and that scared him.

He felt a presence beside him, and looked up to see Varys, staring equally as frightened up at the comet. "It's being called many names already." He said.

"I can only imagine." Tyrion said, rolling his eyes.

"Some say it's a sign that Lord Tywin is about to win a great victory." Varys explained. "Some believe that it's King Joffrey's star, to bless the first year of his reign."

"And what a year to bless." Tyrion japed. Varys didn't laugh.

"Some say it's to mark the blood of the King, that he will not see out the war alive." Varys explained. Tyrion looked around nervously.

"Anyone that's caught saying that, lock them in the Black Cells." He commanded.

"Then there's a more terrifying rumour." Varys said.

"More terrifying than my Father becoming even more arrogant?" Tyrion grinned.

"Dragons." Varys told him plainly, and the smirk fell off Tyrion's face.

"They're dead." He stated.

Varys smirked briefly. "The creatures yes."

Tyrion furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "Find out everything you can on Viserys Targaryen. I want to know what he's doing, who he's meeting and what colour his shit is. Everything."

"I'll task my little birds, but it will take time." Varys told the dwarf.

"Half the time. If he's making moves, we need to know about it." Tyrion ordered. He began to move into his chambers, but Varys stopped him.

"Durran has begun sieging Wendwater Castle." Varys explained. "Lord Reynard asks for aid."

"We can't spare any." Tyrion sighed. "Tell him Lord Tywin is on his way with his army."

"Lie?" Varys asked, eyebrow raised.

Tyrion sighed. "Better the man dies with hope of a rescue, than to give up and hand my nephew his troops without a fight."

Varys nodded, and left Tyrion's chambers. The dwarf looked up in the sky at the comet once more, before sitting at a desk and penning a letter to Lord Tywin.

* * *

Not a day had gone by at Harrenhal where Arya hadn't thought about escaping. Tywin Lannister held Harrenhal well though, and it was all she could do to evade discovery. With Robb seemingly unmoving in the West and Durran threatening from the South, Tywin had become stuck, not knowing which way to turn.

"We need to march South and garrison King's Landing." Kevan was saying.

"And risk being caught by Stark?" Lord Crakehall laughed. "The Capital can hold, we destroy Stark quickly, and we can march back to the capital to defeat the usurper."

"Stark is heading Northwards." Lord Marbrand told them all. "The scouts today confirmed it."

"The last time the scouts confirmed anything, Stark lured us into a trap." Tywin scolded. "The Ironborn have done us a favour in the North, but Stark is too far away and the Ironborn too rough. He will know they can wait."

"Then what do we do?" Kevan asked.

"There's not a lot we can do." Lord Swyft sighed. There was a knock on the door at that moment, and Arya turned to notice a serving boy hand Tywin a letter.

"It's from Tyrion." He said unhappily. "The Baratheons have besieged Wendwater. Tyrion tells me he has promised Lord Wendwater our aid."

Murmurs of displeasure rang around the room. "We won't get there in time." Kevan said.

"He knows, it's a morale tactic." Tywin waved off. "If the Baratheons are besieging Wendwater it gives us time. I want confirmed reports on Starks movements by tomorrow. Get to it."

The Lannister generals all left the room, and Tywin turned to the window. Looking out he saw something in the sky. "Girl, come here."

Arya nervously walked over to the window. "Yes, My Lord?"

"That comet there, the red one, do you see?" Tywin asked. Arya stared in awe at the bright red light in the sky. "What would they say about it in Barrowton?"

"They'd say it's a sign." Arya told him.

"A sign of what?" Tywin prodded.

"A sign of victory. A sign of Lannister blood." Arya said, trying to be menacing. Tywin looked over at her, silently angry.

"Superstitions. That's all." He said through gritted teeth. "Smallfolk in Sarsfield would claim it's a sign of a Lannister victory, people in the Iron Islands would claim it's something to do with their God."

"What do you think it means, My Lord?" Arya asked.

"I think it means nothing." Tywin said haughtily. "Go on, take the leftovers and eat them yourself."

Arya nodded, and went to gather up the leftovers from the table. She noticed one of the Lords had left a meat knife. Looking over at Tywin to make sure he wasn't paying attention, she quickly picked it up and hit the knife in her clothes, before carrying on as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Dany was enthralled with her Dragons. Every day she would just sit and stare at them. The way they moved, the way they interacted, just everything about them made her interested for more.

Melisandre had told her that the blood magic used to hatch them would mean that they could grow at an advanced rate to normal. Being from Asshai, she had knowledge that no others did on the subject of Dragons, and Dany had taken to talking with the woman at least once a day.

They stayed in her rooms. Dany had taken the decision to keep them hidden from the world for as long as possible so as to let them grow, when she could truly help Durran out in his war efforts. Watching the green and black one playfighting, she giggled, stroking the white dragon calmly.

"Have you thought of names, Your Grace?" Melisandre asked from the corner.

"I have." Dany smiled. "This one is sweet, gentle and loving." She said, stroking the white dragon more. "Rhaellar, after my Mother."

"Very good." Melisandre smiled. She walked over and threw a piece of cooked meat over to the two other dragons. A flash of wings and screeches came next, until the black dragon was chewing on the food, leaving the green one left out.

"Dārys." Dany said, looking softly at the black Dragon.

"King?" Melisandre translated. "Your Grace, Dragons don't have genders." She reminded Dany.

"I know." Dany said. "But to me he's a he, and he's proud, and strong. Like my Durran. His name shall be Dārys." The green Dragon came sidling up to Dany, seemingly sulking. She reached into a bowl and picked up a warm piece of cubed pork, hand feeding the creature. "There you are Aelyx, you won't go hungry." She said softly.

"You treat them like children." Melisandre noted.

"They are children." Dany told her. "They're my children. Birthed by my blood."

"They shall rule the skies, fire made flesh." Melisandre said wistfully. "If Your Grace will excuse me, I must go and pray."

Dany nodded. "Of course, enjoy the fires."

Melisandre nodded. Dany spent the next few minutes watching her Dragons begin to snooze, napping after their mini feast. Setting Rhaellar down she heard the chanting of Melisandre coming from the beach. Looking out of her window she watched on as the Red Priestess performed her prayers, eyeing up the flames intently.

* * *

The siege had lasted a fortnight, and Durran wouldn't be the only one to admit that he was bored. He'd never mention that to his Uncle however, who had faced a siege of almost a year back in the Rebellion. Durran spent his time in the council meetings listening to Stannis rule and training with Ser Barristan and Ser Arys.

It was as he was learning a new move from Ser Barristan when horns went up from the Northern side of camp. Men began rushing about to get into a defensive formation just in case it was a Lannister army. The trees made visibility difficult, so Durran waited calmly, sword in his hands in case he needed it.

Horses began to filter through the trees, and Durran felt relieved to see the Golden Rose of House Tyrell prominent among them. He saw Renly Baratheon at the front of the incoming army dismounting, and Durran made his way to see his Uncle. Renly got to one knee as Durran approached, and the army behind him followed suit.

"Rise, please." Durran said loudly. The men rose, and Durran grasped his Uncle in a firm hug. "It's good to see you Uncle, how goes the war?"

"Well, Your Grace." Renly grinned. "Lord Gaunt surrendered Dalston Keep almost immediately, Langward Hall fell through the brilliance of Ser Loras here, and Attadale has also fallen to you. The Kingswood is yours."

The men behind Renly all began to cheer. "Highgarden! Baratheon!" Repeatedly, and Durran found himself grinning.

"Wonderful news. See to it your men join in the siege efforts. How many did you bring?" Durran asked.

"10,000." Renly told him. "The others are making sure the other Crownland castles south of the Blackwater won't be a problem for your march North. Lord Tarly is overseeing the efforts."

"Good work." A voice came from behind Durran, and he turned to see Stannis. "You've done well Renly."

"Thank you, Brother." Renly beamed.

"Come, we must plan the assault, we have enough men to easily take the castle." Stannis said, ushering them into his command tent. The three Baratheons crowded around the table in the centre.

"What's the plan then?" Durran asked.

"We focus our attack on the gate." Stannis said. "Once we're through the first gate and inside the inner walls, they will have to fall back to the actual castle. Renly, you and Ser Loras will sneak around through the trees and ladder up onto the battlements. Take the walls and open the gates. Then the castle will be ours." He explained.

"Of course Brother, we can go from both sides." Renly nodded.

"Split your forces and wait for the fifth go of the battering ram." Stannis told him. Renly nodded, and left the tent to marshal his troops.

"What am I to do?" Durran asked.

"Nothing until the gates are open." Stannis told him. Durran looked furious.

"No. I want to fight, I should lead." Durran complained.

"Have you ever taken a castle before? Have you ever seen what it is like?" Stannis asked, voice raised. "No. Those who take point die. Those who climb the ladders often die. Those who stay back and wait until there's a breach, they live. You need to live, Your Grace." He said, emphasising the title.

"My Father wouldn't have waited while others die for him!" Durran exclaimed.

"You're right, he wouldn't." Stannis said. "But I wasn't responsible for Robert, and I'll be damned if I lose you for a castle like Wendwater. You can lead the charge in King's Landing, I swear it. Trust me now though."

Durran wasn't happy, but Stannis was his regent and the best battle commander he knew. "Fine. I'll wait until the gates are open, but you're taking Ser Barristan with you to lead."

"Agreed." Stannis nodded. "Go and get your helmet. Once you enter the fray likelihood is the men will form around you and you'll be a symbol."

Durran nodded, and skulked to his tent to grab his antler helmet. Ser Arys had followed him.

"What's the plan, Your Grace?" He asked.

"We're sitting back while others break into the castle." Durran complained. Arys let out a sigh of relief. "You're happy at that?"

"I'm no craven, Your Grace, but it's damned easier to protect you on the floor than it is up a ladder." Arys admitted. "We will still get action, I'm sure."

"We better." Durran told his Kingsguard. They both looked out to the castle, watching Durran's army forming up, ready for the attack.

* * *

"HEAVE! HEAVE! HEAVE!" Was the repeated cry coming from the gates of Wendwater Castle. Durran watched from a safe distance with a hundred men in his company as the Baratheon and Tyrell forces were battering at the gates. Arrows were flying and men were dropping, but they had made it to the walls and the ladders had begun to rise. Durran could see Stannis' dark armour against the Baratheon yellow climbing one of the ladders, and watched almost in awe as his Uncle took down three men in quick succession as he reached the top. Ser Barristan was equally as impressive, the old man moving like a man a quarter of his age taking down man after man. The golden details on the new Kingsguard armour almost gleaming in the sunlight.

Renly and Loras were out of sight, and Durran noticed that most men defending the castle were rushing to defend the town gate. Grinning, he knew that the castle would be opened before long.

"How much longer till the gate is open?" He asked Ser Arys.

"Not long now. They can't have more than two thousand defending the castle." Arys replied. Durran nodded, agreeing with the presumption that Lord Reynard had called his banners to Wendwater before they arrived. The ram was beating at the gate consistently, and Durran was itching for it to smash so that the 100 men behind him could charge in on their horses.

Suddenly, Durran looked up at the battlements to see men in yellow and men in green swarming the battlements. Renly and Loras had made it through the defences and had taken the castle walls. Cheers went up as the Wendwater forces fell back to the castle, abandoning the town. A crash a couple of minutes later came, and the first gate was open.

Steel on steel could be heard in abundance now, and Durran had been patient enough. Drawing his one-handed sword, he held it aloft in the air and screamed "BARATHEON!"

"BARATHEON!" Was the cry behind him, and Durran kicked his horse into movement, charging underneath the walls and into the castle.

It was mayhem, men screaming and bodies everywhere. Durran mowed one defender down with his sprinting horse, and kept his calm as he turned on the animal and hacked down men rushing at him. The ram had been moved through the town towards the port cullis keeping them from the castle, so Durran rode with Ser Arys and his mounted forces through the small town, cutting his way through any armed defender he could. Arrows pinged through the air, and Durran had to duck twice quickly to avoid getting pinned by one.

The port cullis didn't remain a barrier for long. Renly and Loras' forces had overwhelmed the battlements and had begun to descend into the castle courtyard, finding the lever to lift the metal object. Durran and his men raced through into the courtyard, where Lord Reynard's last forces rushed out of the castle to defend to their last. Durran's men were quick to dispatch them though, as the horses overpowered the men on foot. Durran noticed a man barking out orders while managing to fend off a number of Baratheon soldiers, and charged over towards Lord Reynard.

His first and second passes were no good, as the Crownland Lord parried his blows, while almost catching Durran's horse's legs. The third pass however was devastating. Durran's horse had become enraged at the man, and after Durran's charge disarmed Lord Reynard, his horse turned around and reared up, striking one of his front legs out and catching Lord Reynard in the head.

Durran looked to the floor to see a pool of blood forming. Lord Reynard's helmet had caved in, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. Sighing, he patted his horse to calm him down as Stannis, Renly and the other leaders of the Baratheon forces met in the courtyard. Durran dismounted when a soldier came for his horse, and being flanked by his Kingsguard and uncles, made his way into the castle.

The guards inside had thrown down their weapons. Durran's men were taking them prisoner, and he strode through the castle towards the Lord's Hall. In the Lords chair sat a ten-year-old girl.

"Lady Elena." Durran said. "We have taken the castle. Surrender to us."

The girl looked terrified. She looked to the Maester to her left, who nodded. "My Father?"

"He fought bravely." Durran said, bowing his head respectfully.

The girl choked back a sob. "I surrender Wendwater to you." She whispered sadly.

"Thank you, My Lady. You will be looked after well, I promise." Durran said kindly. "Maester, please escort Lady Wendwater to her chambers."

The Maester nodded. "Her Mother is bedridden upstairs, I shall take her there." He said, and ushered the girl out. As she left, Durran collapsed into a chair.

"Congratulations, Your Grace." Stannis said. "The way to King's Landing is clear."

* * *

Durran slept well in an actual bed that night. The day after the battle he was sat in the Lords chair eating breakfast when the Maester came up to him in hysterics.

"Calm down." Stannis said sternly. "Tell us what happened."

"The Lady… Lady Wendwater." He cried. "She took her and little Ella…"

"What happened?" Durran asked.

"Gone!" He cried, sobs filling the room. "Flung out of the tallest room!"

Durran swore. He had tried to give the Ladies some privacy after the loss of Lord Reynard and that had clearly backfired. "Someone get this man a warm drink to calm him down, I'm sorry for your loss Maester. I truly am."

"It's your fault!" He cried. "If you'd have stayed away!"

"Take him away." Stannis ordered, and two men complied. Durran turned on his Uncle.

"We can't be too harsh, he's lost the girl he's likely raised." Durran told him.

"He disrespected you, we can't allow that to go unpunished." Stannis said sternly.

"Wait for him to calm down, if he apologises then I'm happy to leave it at that." Durran said. "Have the bodies found."

An hour later and the bodies had been brought back into the castle, and Durran had decided what to do with the castle. After long discussions with Stannis during that hour, Durran took a form of court, he sat in the Lords chair and addressed all of the Lords in attendance.

"Lady Wendwater's tragic death means that there is a succession problem for this castle." Durran exclaimed. "Renly Baratheon!"

Renly got up and knelt before the chair. "Your Grace."

"You have served me excellently since I took the crown. The war isn't over yet but I believe that you should finally be given lands of your own. I name you as Lord of Wendwater." Durran told him. "May Lady Margaery and yourself live a long and prosperous life in this castle."

Renly grinned widely. "I thank you, Your Grace. I hope to continue serving you as best I can."

"As do I, My Lord." Durran said, grinning. He bid Renly to rise, and gave him a firm handshake. The room was applauding, and as Durran went to sit down, Stannis stopped him.

"I would never ask my King to kneel, but I, and everybody here in this room, believe that your bravery on the Fury and in the battle yesterday deserves true recognition, Your Grace." He said. "If it please you, I would knight you."

Durran was gobsmacked, but grinned and nodded. Stannis brought his sword out and Durran fell to his knee. "Don't get used to this, Lord Stannis." He said loudly, causing loud laughs from the room.

Stannis placed the sword upon Durran's right shoulder. "King Durran, of House Baratheon. First of his Name, rightful King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Do you swear before the eyes of Gods and Men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" Stannis asked.

"I swear it, by all the Gods." Durran vowed.

Stannis moved his sword over to Durran's left shoulder, and took it away. "Rise, King Durran, Knight of the realm."

"Long may he reign!" Was the cry Durran thought came from Renly as he rose. The cry continued loudly from all of Durran's Lords, and he grinned inwardly at the sight.

* * *

A few days later, and Durran and his forces were preparing to head North. He was in the command tent finalising the King's Landing assault plans with Stannis, Renly, Loras, Ser Barristan and the other Stormlords when guards entered the tent dragging along a man Durran had wanted to see for a few months.

"Cousin Lancel." Durran grinned evilly. "How nice to see you."

Lancel tried to shrug the two guards off, but failed spectacularly. "I've been sent as an envoy from His Grace King Joffrey, unhand me!"

The guards looked to Durran, who just nodded once, and they let him go. Patting himself down, Lancel brought out a letter. Ser Barristan took it, and handed it to Durran. He broke the seal, and read the words.

"King Joffrey commands his younger brother to stand down immediately and submit himself to the Capital for trial." He said. Sighing, he ripped up the paper. "Fuck all chance that's happening." He said, to his Lords amusement.

"That was a royal document." Lancel said, outraged.

"So it was." Durran told him. "I think you've got my answer."

Lancel huffed, and then began to leave, only to be blocked by Ser Arys. "Move aside Ser."

"Where are you going cousin?" Durran called. "I've not finished with you yet."

Lancel turned back to face Durran. "What do you want with me?" He asked.

Durran stood tall, and walked to stand a few inches away from Lancel. "I'm hereby arresting you for the crime of Regicide. Ser Arys, take him away. I'll question him myself later."

"No! No! You can't! This is wrong!" Lancel screamed, as Ser Arys dragged him away. Durran watched on as his cousin was dragged away, anger in his expression.

* * *

Joffrey hated being summoned to the Small Council. He hated the boredom of it all, but when his Mother uses that tone, he knew he had to go. Ser Meryn opened the door for him, and he waltzed in to see Varys, Littlefinger, Tyrion and his Mother all sat down looking angry.

"Why so glum?" He sneered.

"Did you send Lancel off to be an envoy to Durran?" Tyrion asked.

"Perhaps, what of it?" Joffrey asked.

"What did you say, Joffrey dear." Cersei asked sweetly.

"I commanded him to submit himself to the capital." Joffrey shrugged. "He's my younger brother, I'm the King not him."

"You idiot." Tyrion sighed.

"Watch your mouth." Cersei snapped.

"I'm sorry, but does he know what he's done?" Tyrion asked, voice raised.

"I'm sure his Grace didn't mean to…" Littlefinger started, but a look from Joffrey cut him off.

"Of course I meant to, that little cunt is my younger Brother and he should bend the knee to me." Joffrey said, pointing his finger at Baelish. "Don't presume to tell me what I meant to do."

"Look in the sack." Tyrion said impatiently. Joffrey looked confused, and opened up the sack in the middle of the table. Inside was the severed head of Lancel Lannister, eyeballs gouged out and a note pinned to his forehead. "Go on, read it."

"I will not besmirch my good Father's name and submit myself to a false tyrant. In the true name of justice, I shall take the Throne like I took my Father's killer's head." Joffrey read out.

"Lancel gave your Father wine, Durran thinks that means Lancel killed him." Cersei explained. "I ask you Joff, let your council know if you decide to send another message."

"I will do as I like. I am the King." Joffrey snarled. "I have better things to do with my time." He decided, and strode out, angrier at his Brother than he had been when he walked in.


	10. The First of their Names

Cersei would be a fool to say she wasn't worried. Durran's message had been for her as well she knew, Lancel would have told him everything. She sat in the Small Council chamber wringing her hands together, nervous. Jaime was still captured as far as she knew, and she knew that he was the only one that would be able to calm her down. Shaking her head, she tried to pay attention to the meeting.

"Lord Tywin has sent word, My Lord." Varys was telling Tyrion. "He's coming to King's Landing as swiftly as he can."

Tyrion nodded. "Good news, though what about Stark in the West?"

"Moving Northwards to deal with the Ironborn." Varys told him. "His Riverland forces are remaining in the West, but so far his Northmen haven't been seen since heading North at an Inn just east of Riverrun. I'm waiting on a report from Fairmarket with their troop movements."

"Very good." Tyrion said. "What of the South?"

Varys was nervous here. "They've left Wendwater to head to the coast, where the mouth of the Wendwater is. Lord Randyll has gone to re-join the main host. The fleet is sailing towards them."

"How many men?" Cersei asked.

"Just under 65,000 taking their losses and garrisons into account." Varys told them. The room fell silent.

"How do we beat them? We don't have enough ships." Cersei asked.

"Father has his troops well trained, and doesn't have the Rush to deal with. He'll make it." Tyrion said. "We'll be ok, Sister."

"Your false promises mean nothing." Cersei spat. "Durran is sailing here with double the men if we include Father's host, two great commanders and vengeance in his heart." She said, emotion creeping in to her voice.

"Leave us." Tyrion said, and Varys and an uncharacteristically quiet Littlefinger both fled the room as quickly as they could. "He won't hurt you."

"You don't know that." Cersei cried. "You saw what he did to Lancel…"

"He won't, harm you." Tyrion repeated insistently. "Even after everything, you are his Mother and he can never stop loving you."

"He already has." Cersei said, a tear falling from her eye.

Tyrion sighed, and poured himself some wine. "I remember, one of the last times I was here before Jon Arryn died. Durran must only have been about ten, and I saw him in the training yard hacking away at one of those straw dummies men like to hit. He seemed furious beyond belief." Tyrion told her smiling at the memory. "I asked him what the matter was and do you want to know what he said?" Cersei just nodded weakly. "He said 'Uncle Tyrion, why does my Father shame my Mother so? It was her nameday yesterday and he didn't come to say even a hello to her, instead he laughed with a servant.'"

"He said that?" Cersei smiled. She remembered the day well. Her children had all joined her for a large lunch in her chambers and Durran had left to go and drag his Father, before returning with a secret rage.

"He did." Tyrion nodded. "He may know your secret, he may be trying to take the throne by force but look at what else he has done. He refused to say anything, he killed Lancel yes, but privately so you weren't implicated. He cares about you so much even if he's angry."

"He's a good boy really." Cersei smiled. "I just worry for him. I worry for him if he and Joffrey meet again. He's better, and if he becomes a kinslayer because of me…"

Tyrion began to stand. "I'll do my bit to keep them both alive sister. You can hate me for reasons beyond my control, but your children are my kin, and I shall protect them all until the day I die." He told her, before leaving the room, letting Cersei to ponder on all that he said.

* * *

Tywin Lannister was finishing the last of his letters documenting his orders for Harrenhal when Arya entered the room. She began to tidy up some of the cups left behind from his last council meeting. Silently, she was fuming. Jaqen H'ghar had again refused to kill Tywin for her.

"Only give Ser Gregor one cup of wine a night." Tywin told her. "I don't want him to be drunk at all, do you understand me girl?"

"Yes, My Lord." Arya said, walking behind his seat to place the empty cups on the other table.

"I would take you with me, but a war camp is no place for one so young." Tywin admitted. "You've served well here."

"Thank you, My Lord." Arya said. She looked over his shoulder as she was stacking the cups, and saw he was writing a letter stating troop plans for if Robb Stark was advancing on Harrenhal instead of heading Northwards. Eyes wide, she knew that was another letter she needed to keep. Tywin returned to scratching the quill on to paper, before looking up again.

"What's Barrowton like?" He asked.

Arya's eyes widened. She'd never actually been to Barrowton, and her Father had always avoided it so never spoke about it. "It's homely, My Lord." She said.

"Hah, a rock can be homely." He scoffed. "I don't know much about the individual castles of the North, explain more." Arya began to panic, her eyes darted around for ideas when she noticed Tywin staring directly at her. "Unless you lied about that too."

"No, My Lord. Barrowton is a large wooden keep on top of a hill." She said, trying to remember as much as possible. "Lady Barbrey never really gave us a tour." She added.

"Who are you?" Tywin asked. "You can read, you're in disguise, you're lying about where you're from…" He began. Arya knew she had to move quickly. The knife she had hidden in her sleeve dropped to her hand and she lashed out at Tywin, who after initial shock blocked the swing and backhanded Arya to a few feet away on the floor. She panted, scrambling back as Tywin began to slowly advance on her. "You're the Stark girl, aren't you?" He deduced.

Arya was terrified, and with all her might threw the knife in her hand as hard as she could before closing her eyes preparing for the worst. She heard a squelch, and then a grunt, and then a thud. Opening her eyes, she saw Tywin had dropped to his knees as the knife stuck out of his chest, where his heart was.

"Killed… killed by a child." He gasped, almost laughing.

Arya got to her feet and advanced on Tywin, confidence gained from her throw. "No, My Lord." She said. She grabbed the knife and withdrew it, watching as blood poured from the open wound. Tywin tried grabbing her, but his grip was weak as his life left him. She leaned in, and whispered in his ear. "Killed by a Stark."

She drew the knife slowly across Tywin's neck, and stood back. Tywin's hands came to grasp his neck, but his life was ebbing away fast, and Arya watched on as his grip weakened even more, and his legs gave out, making Tywin hit the floor unmoving.

Making sure the door was closed she immediately got to thinking. Taking the knife, she drew it painfully across her chest, making the cut deep enough to draw blood. Gasping, she threw the weapon down by Tywin's body, and made her way to the table she had put the cups on.

"HELP! MURDER! HE KILLED HIM!" She screamed loudly. "HELP!"

A few moments later two men and Kevan Lannister came bursting into the room, took one look at Tywin and gasped. One of the guards ran over to Arya and held her up. "What happened girl? Did you kill him?" They screamed.

"Lannister… white in his hair…" She gasped. Her eyes were closing, and the last thing she remembered was hearing Kevan Lannister.

"Get her to the Maester!"

* * *

The wind was favourable. It was the dead of night, and Stannis was in command of the Royal Fleet. Stood atop the deck of the Fury, he looked out ahead and could make out the outlines of the rest of the fleet. At the front, sailed Sceptre. Stannis had decided that Durran's flagship needed to be the one that was seen first as a symbol to the people of King's Landing. Ser Davos had been given command of that ship, and Stannis knew that the man would serve him well.

The men were nervy, he could sense that. Every so often the sound of more throwing up appeared, but Stannis tried to block that out, instead focusing ahead where he was waiting to see the torchlight of the Red Keep.

It took a long time, but the drums on the Baratheon fleet began sounding out loudly, and soon enough the lights of the torches could be seen in the distance. Watching on, he waited for the inevitable sound of arrow fire and screaming that indicated the enemy fleet appearing.

Nothing came, and Stannis watched on in suspense. A moment later however, and the world exploded.

Wildfire. The bright green substance erupted from the front of the fleet. A loud ringing filled his ears as Stannis was knocked off of his feet by the explosion. He watched on in horror as the flames grew higher, and the screaming soon filled the air.

"Stefan…" He whispered. His son had been assisting Ser Davos. Shaking his head in rage, he tried to compose himself. "Make to land."

"My Lord…"

"The trick is played, we still have the numbers." Stannis argued.

"The wildfire… the archers…" One of his men argued emotionally. "Hundreds will die."

Stannis turned to look at the man. "Thousands will die, but we will seat the rightful King on the Throne. Make to land." He ordered.

* * *

Tyrion watched on as the fleet in front of him burned. Joffrey was delighted, he had recognised Durran's ship as the first one to explode.

"He's dead! He's dead!" Joffrey kept repeating, ecstatic.

"We don't know that for sure." Tyrion snapped.

"That was his ship!" Joffrey argued, before voices from over the bay began to sound. Tyrion looked out to see hundreds of longboats making for the shore.

"It's not over yet." He remarked.

"There's too many of them!" Joffrey said, wide eyed and frightened. Tyrion looked to count as many as he could.

"There's not enough." He noted. Joffrey looked at him quizzically. "We had reports of over 60,000 men, that's not enough."

"Well where are the others!" Joffrey asked.

"I don't know." Tyrion said, clenching his teeth. He turned to an archer behind him. "Rain fire on them." He ordered, and the man obliged, preparing the archers defending the walls. Tyrion turned to the scarred face of Sandor Clegane next. "Hound, form a welcome party for any Baratheon troop that manages to touch solid ground. Don't let them to the gate." Clegane nodded. "Pod."

"Yes, My Lord?" The squire asked.

"The men at the Iron Gate aren't needed there, bring them here as quick as you can." He ordered. Podrick nodded and sprinted away. Tyrion looked back out to the beach and watched as dozens of Baratheon soldiers fell to the ground, arrows in various parts of their bodies. Enough made it to the walls though to cause him worry. Just as he was about to issue a command, an errand boy ran up to him.

"Your Grace! Your Grace! My Lord!" He cried.

"What is it?" Joffrey asked.

"I've come from the King's Gate! We're under attack!"

"What?" Tyrion asked. "By who? What did we miss?"

"Durran Baratheon!"

* * *

The plan had been to attack from opposite sides of the city. An attack by sea that was leaked to the defenders by Varys, and an attack by land kept hidden, in order to stretch the defences. Durran had waited as long as he could from a safe distance, atop a horse with Renly, Loras and Randyll Tarly waiting for the right moment to attack the three western gates of the city. The explosion had thrown him off however, and it was only the stern attitude of Tarly that held it together.

A messenger came riding from the North at that moment. Tarly had wanted somebody that had eyes on the attack to let them know when the walls had been reached. "They're on the beach Your Grace." He cried.

Durran turned to Randyll Tarly. "Lord Tarly, the Gate of the Gods. Go." He commanded. Tarly nodded, and rode to meet his forces. "Uncle Renly, the King's Gate."

"Victory shall be yours soon, Your Grace." Renly bowed his head, before riding off southwards to reach his troops.

Durran turned to Ser Loras. "Are you ready?"

"Always." Loras grinned, lowering the visor of his helmet. Durran brought out his shortsword, and swung it downwards, indicating the attack to begin.

* * *

Tyrion had just reached the Lion Gate in the centre of the wall and was horrified. Tens of thousands of men were bearing down at the city from the West, heading to all three gates. They had the bare minimum of archers at the walls. Remembering to have words with Varys once he got out of this mess, he was grateful he had planned ages ago for a ground attack from the Reach. He turned to the captain. "Use only flaming arrows." He shouted over. "If they reach 500 yards of the walls, stick to unlit ones!"

"Why?" The captain shouted back, but he needn't have.

* * *

A second explosion knocked Durran off of his horse. Tyrion had carefully laced the surrounding grass with the weakest wildfire he possibly could have, but it still packed a punch. Horrified, Durran watched as around 6,000 men erupted in flames in front of him. The screams were unbearable. Ser Loras was lost, he knew. And he was grateful that he had held back to wait for the second wave.

Thinking, he knew he couldn't go for the Lions Gate, so he turned around to his remaining men. "WITH ME! WE ATTACK THE OLD GATE!" He roared. Cheers came from his men, and they turned around to circle the city, attacking it from a new point in the North while cheering for their King, to let the attackers know he still lived.

* * *

It must have been at least half an hour since the second wildfire explosion and the walls were holding. Tyrion himself had to kill a couple of Reachmen that had made it onto the walls, but they were holding, waiting for Tywin to arrive from Harrenhal.

Joffrey was beside Tyrion, hacking any man that dared attack his walls, and Tyrion had to admit that the boy was relishing battle. A roar from the South however ruined his mood.

The King's Gate had fallen. Men were pouring through into the city screaming their war cries as they went. Tyrion turned to Ser Mandon Moore.

"Get the King inside the Red Keep now!" He cried. Joffrey began to complain, but eventually was persuaded, and was escorted by Meryn Trant as well. Sighing, Tyrion looked behind him at the city.

It had fallen at the Old Gate too. Flames were erupting from near the Dragonpit. Sighing, Tyrion knew the battle was lost. Swearing to himself he wouldn't go down without a fight, he gripped his axe stronger, and took a company of soldiers towards the Gate of the Gods.

* * *

Durran had made it onto the walls. Luckily the soldiers from the Old Gate had all moved towards the Gate of the Gods, so breaching the walls had been simpler than it should have been. Rushing towards where the fighting was, he ran through as many Lannister guards and Gold Cloaks as he possibly could with Stormbringer. The greatsword ran red with blood.

His men were charging through the city below, and Durran quickly made his way to the battlements above the Gate of the Gods. Briefly, he looked out at the Wildfire that was still burning on the fields to the West. It was the furthest gate from the Red Keep, and that's where he found himself face to face with his half man uncle.

"Tyrion! Surrender now!" Durran screamed over the noise of battle. He dodged a sword coming his way, and hacked the legs off of his attacker. "Please!"

Tyrion was thinking about it, when men of all loyalty began running towards them. Durran looked beyond and saw a large, green explosion, as the walls between the Lion Gate and where they were stood splintered.

Durran could see the wall crumbling. He was stuck in place and couldn't move himself. Screaming, he held his hand out for his Uncle who was almost 300 yards away when that part of the wall collapse, and his Uncle fell from sight.

Closing his eyes and expecting the end, something barged into him, and Durran felt arms wrap around him as he fell. He landed moments later and pain erupted in his back, as he landed on somebody. Rolling off, he tried to stand up, only to fall. Getting up finally, he looked at the man who had saved his life wearing Tarly armour.

"What's your name, soldier." He asked weakly. The Tarly boy was in a bad way, His legs were mangled and blood was seeping from his mouth.

"Dic… Dickon Tarly." He wheezed. Durran closed his eyes in mournful recognition. He quickly placed his sword on the boy's shoulders, passing from one to the other.

"Ser Dickon. I owe you my life." Durran said. He thought he saw a smile on the Tarly's face, before his eyes closed and Dickon Tarly breathed no more.

Durran stayed there for an age, not knowing what to do and barely able to move because of the pain is back was in. He felt an arm around his shoulder.

"Durran. Come on." Renly said, angry tears staining his eyes. "We're almost through the Red Keep."

* * *

Hours and countless deaths after the beginning of the attack, the Red Keep had been secured and plain Baratheon banners flew from the Capital. The rooms were being searched, but Durran, Renly, Stannis and Durran's Kingsguard were the only ones entering the Throne Room. Inside they saw four members of the Kingsguard stood in front of the Throne, and Durran's remaining family.

"Durran!" Tommen exclaimed, trying to run down the steps from next to the throne, but Cersei held him close, staring at Durran.

"Joffrey." Durran exclaimed. "Surrender now."

"And why would I do that?" Joffrey sneered, standing up and taking out his sword.

"Joffrey, please…" Cersei began, but Joffrey smacked her roughly in the face. Durran growled and gripped Stormbringer tighter.

"Five on five." Renly said, in the least jovial tone he'd ever used.

"Joffrey is mine." Durran growled, and more swords were drawn. Durran held his up, and charged.

He met Joffrey with a clash of steel, but the greatsword began to be a disadvantage for him. Joffrey was quick, and it took all of Durran's training to keep parrying the blows. A parry left gave him an opportunity to lunge, but Joffrey blocked it and swung his sword at Durran's head, the flat of it impacting with Durran's helmet. Durran heard a scream from behind them, but picked himself up and roared into an attack. He swung his sword so hard it crashed into Joffrey's own, snapping the blade almost at the hilt. Durran kicked out at his half-brother, pushing the bastard to the floor.

Panting, he looked around. Barristan had easily finished off Ser Meryn, and was helping a badly injured Ser Arys with Ser Mandon Moore. Stannis had taken a gash on his arm from Ser Osmund Kettleblack, but his sword now lay deep within the new Kingsguard's neck. Renly had used all of his rage to hack Boros Blount into three separate pieces. A sharp sting in his side brought his attention back, and Joffrey had reached up and pushed his broken sword into Durran's side with venom. Screaming, Durran dropped back, only to see Stannis whip out a knife and thrust it into the eye of Joffrey. Time stood still, as Durran watched his brother fall back in shock, and fall to the floor, unmoving. Gasping, Durran drew the fragment of sword out, allowing Renly and Ser Barristan to tie a cloth around him to pressurise the wound.

Cersei had been watching in horror, but as soon as Stannis put the dagger in her eldest's eye she flew into a rage. She ran at the man with all the fury she could muster, and began scratching at his face. She caught his eye and Stannis howled in pain, thankful for Ser Barristan who used all his strength to grab Cersei and hold her still, picking her up to remove her from the room kicking and screaming.

Renly went to see to his Brother, quickly trying everything to stop the bleeding without a Maester, but Durran only had eyes for his little Brother. Tommen was hiding beside the Throne, terrified. Durran limped up the steps, wincing at the pain he was in, and he sat down before the Throne, leaning on the uncomfortable chair.

"Tommen, it's ok." He gasped. "It's ok."

"Mother… Joffrey…" He began.

"Joffrey was cruel, and tried to kill me." Durran told him. "Mother will be fine I promise."

"Are you back forever now?" Tommen asked.

"I'll never leave you again." Durran promised, and Tommen rushed into his arms, letting Durran hold him as tightly as possible. He picked up his little brother, cursing every step and set off for his room so they both could rest.

* * *

A raven was sent immediately to Dragonstone, and Maester Cressen didn't feel an ounce of guilt at waking Daenerys up. Knocking on the door, he waited a moment before it opened, to reveal Dany finishing covering her body with a robe.

"Maester? It's the middle of the night, what is it?" She asked sleepily. Cressen noticed Rhaellar perching on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Grace." Cressen said. "But a raven came."

"You woke me up for a raven?" Dany asked grumpily.

"From King's Landing." Cressen said excitedly. Dany's eyes bolted open, and she speedily took the raven scroll and looked at the seal. It was the simple stag of Baratheon. Excitedly she tore the seal open and read the scroll. Squealing in delight, she gave the old Maester the fiercest hug he had ever received.

"They won!" She exclaimed. "They won! They've taken the Red Keep and Joffrey is dead!"

Cressen beamed. "What would you have me do now, Your Grace?"

Dany grinned. "I want a ship ready to sail immediately." She told the Maester. "The King needs his Queen."

* * *

The Throne waited until the next day. The prisoners had been given cells in the dungeons, and Durran slept surprisingly well considering Tommen woke up twice with nightmares. A seeming army of Maesters harassed him the next morning, and once he was declared fit, Durran put on his finest black Baratheon clothes and his crown and went down to the Throne Room.

The room was packed. He looked around to see all the survivors from the battle gathered in the room. He looked around to see countless Stormlords and Reach Lords. He stopped by Randyll Tarly and offered his condolences, shook hands with Renly and made a quick jest about Stannis' new blind eye. Finally, he rose the steps towards the Iron Throne regally, turned towards the crowd and sat down.

"I give you Durran, of House Baratheon! First of his Name. King of the Andals and the First Men! Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!" Renly shouted. "Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!"


	11. The Art of Ruling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a reminder, the three dragons are as follows.  
> Drogon - Dārys  
> Viserion - Rhaellar  
> Rhaegal - Aelyx

"OVER HERE! OVER HERE!" Davos was screaming. When the Wildfire explosion had gone off he and Stefan Baratheon had been at the front of Sceptre, and luckily they had been there. Both of them had been blown off of the ship with force, and the next thing Davos remembered was dragging Stefan along in the water on to the shore. With no memory of how far they'd gone and no sense of where they were, Davos counted himself lucky that it had only been a few hours until a fishing boat had sailed nearby them.

Waving his arms around manically, he had almost given up hope until the ship began to lower two rowboats into the water. Stefan still hadn't woken up and his left arm was horribly mangled, so Davos made him comfortable and tried to make a makeshift sling for the boy. He had just finished tying it around Stefan's neck when the rowboat called out to him.

"You there! Who are you?" The sailor called.

"I was in the battle!" Davos called back. "I was a captain! I'm a knight!"

"For which King?" He asked.

Davos looked at them, knowing that the wrong answer would kill them both. "This boy needs a Maester urgently!" He tried.

"Which King?" They asked again. Davos sighed, and looked at the sailor with a steely gaze.

"The One True King." He replied. "Durran Baratheon."

The sailors looked at each other and began grinning. "Come aboard, we'll take you to King's Landing and get your boy patched up."

Davos let out a gasp in relief. "He's not my boy." He told them. "He's Stefan Baratheon, son of the Regent. I'm Ser Davos Seaworth."

The sailors sprang into action at that moment, two of them grabbing Stefan and carefully carrying him onto the rowboat. Davos wearily stepped on to the other, desperately drinking some fresh water handed to him before he collapsed onto the bench of the boat.

* * *

Durran immediately rushed to the Iron Gate as soon as he heard the news that Stefan had been found. He and Ser Barristan arrived just after Stannis and a couple of the camp Maesters that had followed Durran's army. The Maesters immediately took Stefan into hand, doing what they could for his minor wounds. They both looked nervously at each other when they saw his arm however.

Durran urged them to head back to the Castle where they'd have everything they'd need. Following behind the party he caught up with Stannis.

"I'm happy for you, Uncle. I feared the worst…"

"I saw the ship explode." Stannis said. "At the time I couldn't think about it, there was a war to win. But now he's back… I don't know how to feel."

"Happy." Durran said. "He's alive."

"For how long?" Stannis said, worry creeping into his voice.

"Years to come." Durran said positively. "I'm sure of it."

Rushing into the Red Keep the closest table they could find was in the Small Council Chambers. Tasking servants with bringing everything medical they could carry, he helped clear the table of meaningless papers and began helping the Maesters carefully removing Stefan's shredded armour.

His body was a mess. Cuts and bruises everywhere and splintered wood still sticking out of his body.

"It's a blessing from the Warrior that he still lives." A Maester said.

"You're going to keep him that way." Durran told them firmly, Stannis was at the side, holding Stefan's good hand.

"Of course, Your Grace." The two Maesters said. "We just need to remove the shrapnel carefully and then we shall see to his arm."

Durran helped where he could, not wanting to be the sort of King that shied away from his injured family. He helped remove the shrapnel, and helped bandage up the 13-year-old. Finally, they could truly look at his arm, and it wasn't good. One Maester pulled both Durran and Stannis to one side.

"The arm is beyond saving, My Lord, Your Grace." They said sadly. "We can save him though, cut it below the elbow. He can have an arm made for him like Lord Jocelyn."

"Ironhand?" Durran asked.

The Maester nodded. "Or we can cut just below the shoulder, to be sure that infection hasn't spread."

Durran swore, his cousin was only 13. "Ultimately, it's Lord Stannis' call." He said, looking at his Uncle.

Stannis hadn't taken his eyes off of Stefan. "He'll live with the elbow?" He asked.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Then save as much of his arm as you can Maester." Stannis commanded strongly. He immediately went back to holding Stefan's hand. Durran stood back and watched as the two Maesters and servants strapped Stefan onto the table and took out a saw. Not able to stand it much longer, he bid Barristan to stay and help as he fled, having to leave the room, and Durran stood before the Iron Throne, tears in his eyes as the sound of bone crunching could faintly be heard.

The doors flung open, and in rushed Renly. "I was in the Sept of Baelor and I've only just heard! How is he?"

"He's losing his arm." Durran said, wiping his tears.

"Fuck." Renly swore. "Stannis?"

"In there with him." Durran said. Renly bowed politely and entered the Small Council room, leaving Durran alone in the Throne Room.

* * *

A couple of hours had passed and Stefan had been moved to chambers in the Tower of the Hand. Durran stood by the bed with Renly as Stannis was sat by Stefan's side. There was no talking whatsoever, until suddenly, Stefan's eyes opened.

"Did we win?" He croaked weakly. Stannis immediately shot up.

"We did." Durran gasped emotionally.

"Good." Stefan grinned. He looked up at Stannis. "Your eye?"

"It's nothing." Stannis waved off. "A scratch. How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Like the ship blew up with me on it." Stefan chuckled softly, before realising who he was talking to. "I mean well enough Father." Durran couldn't stop his laugh, happy his cousin could still joke. "Ser Davos?"

"Alive. He has a few scratches but he's just resting now." Durran explained. "It's you we were worried about."

"Me?" Stefan asked. "Why me?" He tried to sit himself up, only realising then the extent of his injuries. "My arm." He gasped.

"It was too damaged." Stannis told him. "The Maesters did all they could."

Stefan held it out, staring at it for the longest time. "It's not my sword hand." He told himself more than anyone. "I can still fight for you Your Grace."

"Don't worry about that now." Durran told him. "You recover, that's your priority. There are plenty of men capable of fighting for me." He went over and gripped Stefan weakly on the shoulder. "I'll fetch the Maester." He said before leaving the room, letting Stannis and Renly fawn over the boy. Ser Barristan fell into step beside him. "Do you know what, Ser Barristan?" He asked.

"No, Your Grace." Barristan said.

"Stefan has lost an arm, Stannis an eye." Durran said. "And the most miserable person in that room was Renly. How strange."

* * *

Later that evening, Durran was excited. He put on black trousers and a dark golden shirt along with his crown, and he and part of the Small Council were headed down to the docks. Standing beside Varys and Ser Barristan, he eagerly watched as the Princess Rhaenys, an apt name for Dany's personal ship, rowed into the harbour. She was dressed in black with Baratheon detailing which he loved, and wore her crown so the people knew who she was. Stepping off of the ship, Durran chuckled as most of the procession bowed formally for her. She stood in front of Durran, and he immediately caught her hand and placed it against his lips.

"My Queen." He smiled.

"Your Grace." She curtseyed. They both laughed and he gripped her into a fierce hug. He had missed her terribly, her smell, her touch, and he relished everything in that moment.

They had to let go though, and Dany said hello to Varys fondly before they walked back to the Red Keep. Durran had all of her things brought up to his room, and was very surprised when Melisandre and a couple of handmaidens brought in three boxes. They set them down and left immediately, leaving Durran and Dany in his new room all alone.

"My Father's old chambers." He explained. "It feels strange, but they're the biggest and meant for the King."

Dany stared around in awe, going out to the balcony to look at the orange sunset sky. "These are impressive! Were they my Father's chambers too?" She asked.

Durran scrunched his face up. "I don't want to think about that. You being conceived." He laughed.

"Very well." Dany grinned, before going to shut the curtains to the balcony. Durran watched her quizzically, as she went over to the boxes and unbolted them. He was in for a huge shock however, as out walked three, living, breathing Dragons.

"By the Seven…" He gasped. "What?"

"I hatched them." She grinned. "My love, meet Rhaellar, Dārys and Aelyx." She said, pointing to the three. The white one, Rhaellar, immediately flew up onto Dany's shoulder as she petted it softly. Aelyx, the green, went zooming around the room happily. Dārys was the biggest, already the size of one of Tommen's cats. The black and crimson dragon walked awkwardly up to him, tilting his head to one side at Durran staring in awe before it began to chase its sibling around the room.

"They'll settle soon, I fed them before we docked." She told him. "Aren't they incredible?"

"They are." Durran told her. "You can control them?"

"Yes." Dany smiled. "Look they're already settling down." She said, watching as Dārys and Aelyx settled over in a corner and looked like they were about to snooze. Dany set Rhaellar down next to them, and she stood in front of Durran. He smiled down at her, capturing her lips again.

"I have missed you." He said in between kisses. "I've not slept the same without you."

"I hope you're not planning on sleeping tonight." She grinned cheekily, and Durran barked out a laugh, picking her up and throwing her on the bed before jumping on with her.

* * *

They managed a bit of sleep in the end, but it was bright and early when they woke up. Dany was gently rubbing her hand over Durran's chest, caressing it as he stroked her naked back.

"I'm going to announce you to court today." He told her. "I'm already announcing my full Small Council and new Kingsguard, you can be by my side."

"Of course." Dany smiled, sighing contently as she nestled further into Durran. "Do we have to move now though?"

Durran chuckled. "You can stay here naked for as long as you wish." He told her. "I need to see my Mother."

Dany's smile faded. In between the time they had spent reuniting themselves with their bodies, Durran had told her everything that had happened. "Be careful, who knows what her mind is like."

"I will, don't worry." Durran said, kissing the top of her forehead before he shifted himself to move. He cried out amusedly as he felt Dany slap his bare arse as he rose out of the bed, and turned to give her a fake unamused stare. Grinning, he pulled out some clothes for the day and left the room flanked by Ser Barristan again.

"How's your new armour?" He asked.

"It fits well, Your Grace." Barristan nodded.

"I hope the others will like the changes." Durran admitted.

"Your reform, while unheard of is a strong idea." Barristan told him. "I just hope we fill the ranks quickly."

"As do I Ser." Durran nodded. They were soon at his Mother's chambers, and the two guards on the door moved aside as Durran opened it to go in. Cersei was sat by her table, looking calm and as beautiful as ever. She looked up at him and smiled.

"My boy." She whispered.

"Hello Mother." Durran said unemotionally. He sat down opposite her, and just looked for a while. Cersei began to shift nervously.

"You remind me of your Grandfather doing that." She tried to laugh. "He will call people to meet him and sit there for an age writing or doing something other than talk, just to unnerve them."

"I'm hoping to hear from Lord Tywin soon so he can bend the knee." Durran told her.

"Lord Tywin?" Cersei asked.

"I'm not sure that claiming the Lannister side of my family right now is a good idea, is it?" He told her. Cersei put her head down in shame.

"Durran…"

"Don't!" He shouted, banging his fists on the table. "Don't try and explain it away. You lied to me! You lied to us all!"

"You know what it was like for me." Cersei sighed. "I won't apologise for loving another."

Durran looked disgusted. "Love? Jaime is your brother!"

"No." Cersei snapped, before softening her voice again. "He's not just my brother, he's my twin. We came into this world together. We are two halves of the same whole."

Durran felt like he was going to throw up. "It's not right." He whispered.

"Your wife is the product of such." Cersei reminded him, causing Durran to stop in his tracks. "Jaime and I are many things, I understand why you hate us and detest us, but when we get him back ask him about the Mad King's marriage. You'll understand then."

Durran didn't know what to say. "You think I detest you?"

"How can you not. You went to war against your kin." Cersei told him.

Durran sighed, shaking his head. "No Mother. I wanted nothing more than for this to all be a nightmare and to just be the Brother of the King, but Joffrey was no King. By all the laws of the land he was a bastard, a Waters. That's the true reason I rebelled, to preserve my Father's name. Joffrey being a tyrant…"

"Helped. I know." Cersei sighed sadly. "I know what he was."

"You should have stopped him executing Lord Eddard." Durran told her.

"If I had a choice I would have." She scoffed. "Joffrey was Joffrey, being a King made him cruel, and nobody says no to a King."

"They can to me." Durran told her. "I'm building a strong council. A full council of strong men and women. Stannis is my regent, he will guide me."

"I want him dead." Cersei spat.

"No." Durran told her.

"You don't understand." She sighed. "Joff was still my boy, my first boy and that monster killed him." She choked on a tear.

"And you almost tore out his eye for that." Durran told her. "If you're claiming Regicide then I must kill Jaime too. Stannis has paid enough for killing Joffrey with his eye and Stefan's arm."

"I heard about that." Cersei told him.

"He's fine." Durran said, standing. "Thank you for the concern."

Cersei shook her head. "What are you to do with me?" She asked.

Durran looked her over. "I know what you did to Father, I know you tempted Lancel into it. While I can understand your hatred, I can't let that go unpunished. You will be confined to the Maegor's Holdfast for the foreseeable future except on formal occasions where your presence is required. All servants have been told to come to either myself or Stannis for any request you make other than food and drink. You're not a prisoner, not truly, but you shall never weald the power you once had."

Cersei nodded, and Durran walked out of the room. Pouring herself some water, she said to herself. "Oh my boy, Mother's always have certain power."

* * *

Cersei watched on as Daenerys Targaryen was introduced to court. She kept her smile for proprieties sake, but inside she was seething at the sight of the girl that had stolen her son.

Daenerys came up to the gallery afterwards, and stood next to Cersei as Durran was sat letting the Lords loyal to Joffrey bend the knee. They watched on in silence for a while, until Daenerys spoke.

"I'm sorry about Joffrey." She said.

"Thank you." Cersei acknowledged.

"I can't imagine how hard that was, I wish there had been another way." Dany sighed.

"War is cruel, but Durran seems to be a strong King, he has always been strong." Cersei said, smiling for real.

"He has. He's a good man." Dany grinned. "I know our families don't have a good history, but Durran cares for you, no matter how cold he thinks he has to be to you."

"He has every right." Cersei said.

"But he loves you more than you know." Dany told her. "I just wanted you to know that."

Cersei nodded her thanks, and at that moment Durran made himself heard throughout the room.

"I have decided on my full Small Council." He told them all. "For starters. Lord Stannis Baratheon of Storm's End."

Stannis made his way to kneel before the Throne. "Your Grace."

"You are my Uncle, and my most staunch supporter. Your wisdom has served me well for my entire life so far, and I hope I can continue to count on that." Durran said.

"I am always at your service Your Grace." Stannis told him.

"I name you Regent of the Iron Throne until I reach the age of 16, and Hand of the King." Durran told them all. Varys stepped forward and handed Stannis the badge of office, pinning it onto his shirt. Stannis stood up and stood back to thunderous applause.

"Lord Renly Baratheon of Wendwater." Durran called. Renly stepped forward and repeated Stannis' actions. "Your leadership in the war won us many victories in the Crownlands. I would reappoint you to your former role of Master of Laws."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Renly nodded, unsmiling. He stood back and stood beside Stannis once more.

Durran called more people up after. "Lord Randyll Tarly. I name you in the new position of Master of War. You shall be in command of the remaining war efforts, and all conflict from now until you leave the position. Ser Davos Seaworth, I name you Master of Ships. Lord Petyr Baelish, you shall remain as Master of Coin. Lord Varys, you shall remain as Master of Whisperers." He called out one at a time, as those in question knelt before him and thanked him profusely.

"One more role shall be created, although the recipient isn't yet in King's Landing." Durran explained. "Lord Mace Tyrell shall become Master of Commerce. All matters of trade are to fall under his eye."

Applause rang through again, before Durran held a gloved hand up. "The Kingsguard has long been a tradition for the King of Westeros, and it shall be the same under my reign, but I will make changes to the order." Whispers ran through the room, and Cersei wondered what Durran had planned. "I have decreed that the order shall be made up of one member from each of my Kingdom's that follow the Seven, plus a Lord Commander. Ser Barristan Selmy, will you take up the role of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard as you once did for my Father?"

Barristan turned and knelt. His black armour with gold detailing shining in the torchlight. "It would be my honour, Your Grace."

Durran grinned. "Ser Arys Oakheart!"

Ser Arys was on a crutch, but he made his way in front of the Throne and bowed as low as his injured body would allow him to. He had changed armour, instead of gold detailing he now had armour lined with green. "I live to serve you, Your Grace, as I have from the first." He called.

"Will you take up the White Cloak on behalf of all those in the Reach? To honour your family and your liege in service to your King?"

"I will Your Grace."

Durran grinned again, and nodded to his long-time protector. Soon afterwards Ser Balon Swann was called, and he agreed to swear his vows and take on the yellow of the Stormlands.

"Ser Robar Royce!" Durran called. Murmurs swept the Throne Room. Robar Royce came out of the crowd and knelt before Durran. "So far, the Vale has kept themselves silent, but you have served Lord Renly well since arriving in his service, and I ask you to serve me just as well as the Vale's Kingsguard."

Robar looked up while kneeling. "I will serve you with all I am, Your Grace. You have shown yourself worthy and I would stand with you until the day I die." He called.

"Arise, Ser Robar of the Kingsguard." Durran called, and a servant brought forward the black armour lined with pale blue, in line with House Arryn's sigil. Minor lordships were dealt with afterwards, but soon enough Durran was able to join Dany in the gallery.

"You handled yourself well My King." She curtseyed.

"I just spoke a lot." He shrugged.

"You truly did well." Cersei added. "A finer King I have never seen."

Durran smiled. "Thank you, Mother. It means a lot." He turned to Dany. "I need to go and have a conversation with Grand Maester Pycelle now, but I'll see you tonight."

"Of course." Dany grinned. Durran leaned in to kiss her, and Cersei turned her head for a moment letting them have their youthful fun. Durran turned and left straight away, and the two females watched his back as he left.

"He truly loves you." Cersei remarked.

"And I him." Dany said strongly. "Our union may be convenient for the realm, but it's convenient for us too. I wouldn't have married anybody else."

Cersei only smiled, remembering the way she used to speak about Rhaegar the same way.

* * *

The door to the black cell opened, and in stepped Durran, Renly and Stannis, as well as a guard with a torch. Pycelle looked a shade of his former self.

"Pr… Prince Durran." He stammered.

"King Durran." Renly said sternly.

"Of course." Pycelle said. "Forgive me, I'd kneel but…"

"But you were thrown in here for going against the Hand's wishes and probably can't feel your legs." Durran told him. "No matter, I just wanted to tell you what was going to happen now."

"You've always been loyal to the Lannisters." Renly snarled. "That changes now."

"You will only report to the Citadel and the King. The ravenry isn't your problem anymore." Stannis added. "We have other Maesters who can take care of most of your duties, your only role will be to advise the King as Grand Maester."

"I must protest…"

"You're in no state to protest, Pycelle." Durran said, his voice raising. "I know you report to my Mother, I know you report to my Grandfather. That will stop. You will perform your duties as Grand Maester of the Citadel to a high standard or I will find another that will."

"Of course, Your Grace. I live to serve the Iron Throne above all else." Pycelle told him.

"Good." Durran nodded. "If I find a sniff of treason from you, then you shall be reminded that I am Tywin Lannister's grandson. I won't forgive you again."

With that he began to leave, but heard a thud and a groan. Turning around he saw Renly had punched the old man in the face. "What was that for?" Durran asked.

"I didn't like his nose." Renly shrugged. Durran chuckled, and walked out of the sell with his two uncles flanking him.

* * *

Arya had been patched up by the castle Maester as good as new, and after telling her story to Kevan Lannister enough times, she was finally allowed to go back to the Kitchens. She gathered Hot Pie, and they made their way to the blacksmiths where Gendry worked.

As soon as he saw her, he dropped what he was doing. "Are you alright? I heard the assassin almost got you too."

"I'm fine." She waved off. "He just missed me."

"Oh, I forgot." Hot Pie said, reaching into his clothes. He pulled out a loaf of bread. "We had some spare, and I asked if I could make you some to get better with."

"Thank you, Hot Pie." Arya smiled.

"You know the secret to browning it just right?" He asked. "It's…"

"Shut up about bread for a minute." She whispered harshly. "The Lannisters are going to leave soon, we need to go too."

Gendry looked at her questioningly. "If the Lannisters are leaving, won't the Starks be coming?" He asked. "Why leave?"

Hot Pie looked nervous. "I've heard things about the Starks. I heard they eat the flesh of their prisoners."

"Don't be stupid." Arya scoffed. "The only cannibals in the North are the Skagosi and Robb wouldn't have them in his army."

"How do you know." Hot Pie asked, terrified. Gendry gripped the fat boy's shoulders and leaned in close.

"He's her brother. That's Arya Stark." Gendry whispered. Hot Pie's eyes grew wide, and he was about to say something when Gendry clasped his hands over Hot Pie's mouth. "Not here!"

Arya didn't have the time for this. "The Mountain won't leave anyone alive. The Lannisters will go and leave him in charge and he'll slaughter us all. We have to go."

Gendry looked around. "How?" He laughed. "How do we escape?"

Arya looked around, making sure nobody was there. "The sewers. Bring swords and meet me there tonight. Hot Pie, bring food and wrap it up well. We'll escape through the sewers."

* * *

Night fell, and with it came two deaths as guards met Gendry's muscle and Arya's skill. The young trio waded through the shit and filth for what seemed like an eternity, until finally they exited the tunnel by the Gods Eye. All of them immediately waded into the lake to wash themselves as much as they could. Once they had finished and got back on to the shore, Gendry asked the question they all wanted to know. "Which way now?"

Arya had a look up at the moon, back at the lake and then back up again. "West. My family hold Riverrun. We'll be safe there." She told them. Picking up a sword, she nodded to herself before turning right, towards what she hoped to be her family.


	12. Little Sister

**302 AC**

Durran walked into the Small Council chamber with Stannis and Ser Barristan to see it busier than it must have been in years. Inside already where the members of the Council in the Capital, with the sole exception of Mace Tyrell who was travelling down the Roseroad that very moment with his daughter. Baelish, Varys, Pycelle, Lord Randyll and Renly all sat down waiting for the King. They stood and bowed as Durran made himself seen.

"Sit, My Lords. A new year, yet the same Kingdom to rule. Shall we get straight down to business." Durran said. They all sat down at their respective places, and Durran sat in the King's chair, in between Stannis and Pycelle.

"How goes work on the walls?" Stannis asked.

"Coin has been acquired for the materials and we're gathering as much stone as we can for the efforts. The Gate of the Gods will need significant repairs though, as will the Lion Gate." Baelish told them all.

"See to it that work is completed as quickly as possible. The Gold Cloaks can help." Stannis nodded at Renly, who nodded back. "What of the actual city?"

"Getting back to normal, whatever normal is." Renly told them. "The rebuilding will help as more jobs will be available, but we'll need to pay them."

"Not a problem." Stannis told them. "Lord Mace is bringing cart loads of food stock for the Castle, we can pay them in long lasting food if there isn't enough coin."

"What of Robb Stark and the Northerners? Have they made contact?" Durran asked.

"No, Your Grace." Varys told him. "I believe Robb Stark is nearing Harrenhal though."

"Harrenhal? I thought he was moving Northwards?" Stannis asked.

"A ploy, he's used the same trick twice." Randyll said gruffly. "Tricked Tywin Lannister it seems, the Lannister army is heading eastwards, towards Antlers."

"There is even graver news." Varys said. "Tywin Lannister was murdered at Harrenhal."

Silence fell over the room, as the information was digested. "Murdered?" Stannis asked.

"Yes, he and a serving girl were attacked by a mysterious assailant, she survived and the attacker was never found." Varys explained.

"How are we sure the girl didn't murder him?" Randyll asked.

"Have you ever known Lord Tywin to underestimate anybody? If it was the girl, she'd be dead with him." Baelish laughed.

"What of the Lannister forces? Who is in command?" Durran asked.

"Ser Kevan." Randyll said.

"He has sent word." Varys told them all, pulling out a raven scroll and handing it to Durran. He opened the seal and read the message.

"Kevan Lannister has sworn fealty, he will bend the knee when he arrives at the Capital." Durran read aloud. "So we just have the North and the Riverlands to go to end this war."

"Send a raven message to Robb Stark at Harrenhal. Appeal to his better nature. We aren't his enemy." Stannis said. "He will bend the knee to Durran."

"He's a boy that's won too many battles." Randyll acknowledged. "He'll keep going until he loses or dies."

"I'll write to him myself." Durran told them. "We got on well at Winterfell, I can try and reason with him."

"Very good, Your Grace." Stannis nodded. "We heard about Ironborn raids in the North, what of that?"

"Yes. Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square and Moat Cailin were all attacked. Torrhen's Square were the only successful defenders." Varys said. "Winterfell has also fallen. Theon Greyjoy turned on his foster family it seems."

"He was a prisoner there, and felt like he had something to prove." Randyll surmised.

"What of the boys? Catelyn Stark's youngest?" Baelish asked.

"Dead as far as my reports go." Varys said sadly. "Theon and the Ironborn seem to have disappeared too, and Winterfell was burnt. It lies in ruin."

Durran swore quietly. "Find Greyjoy if you can, part of the terms I will offer to Robb is help rebuilding and men and ships to fight the Ironborn."

"Your Grace." Varys nodded.

"Is there anything about my Uncle Jaime in your letters?" Durran asked.

"No, Your Grace. I'll keep trying though." Varys said.

"Good. As for the prisoners…" Stannis began, and the meeting droned on for at least another hour, as the medial matters of state were decided.

* * *

They had travelled for around a week and a half, not really knowing where they were going when Arya heard singing. Pulling the two boys behind a large tree, she held her breath, until she thought she recognised the voice.

"And the stars in the night were the eyes of his wolf." The man was singing. "And the wind itself was their…"

Hot Pie had moved and snapped a twig, and immediately swords were drawn from the men beyond the tree.

"You idiot!" Arya whispered.

"Sorry." Hot Pie replied, terrified.

"Come out now and we won't kill you." A soldier said.

"Yet." Another added, and the group laughed.

Arya gripped her sword and walked out alone, facing off to a group of six men. Gendry quickly followed her, and Hot Pie behind him.

"What do we have here, three boys alone in the woods." The one that was singing said. "It's not safe here."

"It's not safe anywhere." Arya replied, recognising the man as a guard from Winterfell. The men laughed.

"Where are you from?" He asked.

"You should know Rickard. You brought me back into the castle once after I ran into the Wolfswood." She said, still gripping her sword in case it didn't work. Rickard looked in confusion.

"Don't play games with me." He warned.

"'Lady Arya, you do that again and your Lord Father will have both of our hides.'" She quoted, and Rickard's eyes widened. "You told me you were named for my Grandfather."

"Fuck me…" He began. "Swords away boys. We need to find King Robb."

"Why?" One asked.

"Because this one isn't a boy." He said. "It's the Princess Arya Stark."

* * *

The guards stepped aside again, as Durran entered his Mother's rooms. She was entertaining Tommen for dinner.

"Am I alright to join you both?" He asked.

"Durran!" Tommen exclaimed. Cersei chuckled.

"Of course. This is a nice surprise." Cersei said, setting a place and putting some food on a plate. Durran sighed.

"It's not really. I need to talk to you both about something important." He said, cutting into some beef. "Mother, I'm so sorry. Grandfather was killed."

Cersei looked in shock. "How?" She asked.

"We're not sure, claims of an assassin were made." Durran told her. "It leaves a problem over the succession."

Cersei nodded, downing a cup of wine before she could continue. "Someone would have paid a lot of money to kill him. I assume you're finding out who?"

Durran nodded. "Varys is on it. I wanted to talk to you about Casterly Rock."

"It's Jaime's." Cersei said quickly.

"No." Durran replied. "I can't let him in a seat of that power, not after everything. Plus he's Kingsguard, he's sworn off all titles and lands."

"You're letting him back onto your Kingsguard?" Cersei asked.

"I'll talk to him about that." Durran told her. "I want to legitimise Tommen as a Lannister. By rights the castle is yours, but you will remain here. I want you to pass over the castle to Tommen publicly."

Cersei sighed, staring at her son. "If I refuse?"

Durran looked back strongly. "Then documents have been found at Casterly Rock that claim Lord Tywin made me his heir before he marched out to war. I obviously can't take it, meaning Tommen will be Lord of the Rock."

"I don't want to be Lord of a rock." Tommen piped up. Durran had to try not to laugh.

"Not a rock, Casterly Rock." Cersei explained. Looking back at Durran she said. "You've given me no choice."

Durran sighed. "This will be instead of your other punishment, the servants still won't listen to you, but you can have a seat on my council and I won't confine you to Maegor's any longer."

Cersei nodded. "Very well. What is to happen with my Father's bones?"

"They're being sent here, for us to mourn and hold a service, and then they will go to Casterly Rock to be buried in the Hall of Heroes." Durran explained.

"Thank you." Cersei said, grateful she would get a chance to say goodbye. "Any word on Jaime?"

Durran clenched his teeth. "We're doing all we can." He told her. "We'll confirm Tommen as a Lannister tomorrow, then we'll prepare for Myrcella to arrive." His sister had left Storm's End a week ago, and was almost through the Kingswood.

Cersei smiled at the thought of her daughter. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

Durran nodded, rising and giving Tommen's hair a ruffle before he left the room.

* * *

In another part of the castle, Dany was hosting Melisandre, as Aelyx and Dārys played roughly around the room. Dany observed her dragons, pleased to see that Rhaellar, clearly the calmest, was just watching her siblings carefully.

"They have grown a lot, no?" Melisandre asked. They were currently the size of a large dog, having grown so much in such a short space of time. "Soon they will need to fly outside."

"They do at nights." Dany smiled, throwing a leg of lamb over and chuckling as the three dragons began fighting each other for the scraps. "Durran isn't sure how to tell people we have dragons yet…"

"They are not creatures to be hidden away and feared, My Queen." Melisandre told her. "They are fire made flesh, the creation of the Lord of Light to defeat his only enemy."

Dany looked thoughtful at that. "Tell me about your God." She said.

Melisandre grinned. "The Lord of Light is not my God, Your Grace. The Lord of Light is the God of us all, locked in an eternal battle with the Great Other. He is a God of light and love and joy, whereas the Great Other is a God of darkness, evil and fear. He and all his demons must be destroyed for R'hllor to bring light to even the darkest corners of the world."

Dany was confused. "Demons?"

"Demons." Melisandre repeated. "The Drowned God, the trees of the forest, the Seven, they are all demons created by the Great Other to test us and our true faith."

"How do you know it's the only faith though?" Dany asked. "Every religion believes that of themselves."

"They do, but the false prophets give no power to mere mortals." Melisandre smiled. "I am but a former slave, born again in the light of the Lord. He gave me the power to hatch your Dragons, he gives me the power to do a great many other things, My Queen."

"Like what?" Dany asked. Melisandre smiled, and took Dany's hands, leading her to the fire in the room.

"Visions, Your Grace." She said enticingly. "Come, stare into the fire with me."

Dany stood forward and looked into the flames. "I see only fire."

"Stare, let the dance of the flames fill your mind." Melisandre said soothingly.

"What do you see?" Dany asked.

Melisandre stared intently at the flames, her eyes unblinking. "I see a wolf pounce, a fish and a stag dancing, I see three become two and I see a tower draped white."

"All of that in the flames?" Dany asked, unbelieving.

"You shall too." Melisandre smiled. She stood behind Dany, guiding the Queen's body into the right position. "Look, feel."

Dany did, and after a few moments of nothing, her eyes widened in evident surprise. "What is this?" Dany asked, scared.

"What do you see, My Queen?" Melisandre asked.

"I… I see a dragon. A golden dragon laughing as it drops a young girl from great distance." Dany said, confused. "What does it mean?"

"It can mean many things and it can mean one thing. It can be far off, and it can be just around the corner." Melisandre said cryptically. "We shan't know until it passes, Your Grace."

* * *

"You're a Princess?" Gendry laughed.

"Shut up!" Arya exclaimed. They were being led back to Harrenhal where they could see the Northern army streaming in to the castle. She gasped as she saw Robb in the distance atop a horse next to a man she didn't know. Rickard told them all to wait there as he ran over to talk to the two men. Robb immediately jumped off of his horse and followed Rickard, with the other man following at a slower pace. Robb stopped directly in front of her, staring intently into her eyes.

"Hello Robb." She said nervously, and Robb broke into a huge grin, letting a laugh out.

"Arya." He whispered, kneeling down and hugging her fiercely. She nestled into his strong arms, not wanting to let go. He did though, before looking at her questioningly. "We thought you were in King's Landing?"

"Escaped." She shook her head. "I saw it though, I saw Father…" She trailed off.

"You're safe now." He insisted. "Harrenhal is ours. Tywin Lannister retreated East over a week back, we're here to fortify the castle and chase them." Robb told her. "You can stay here for now, Mother will be."

"Mother…" She grinned. "Wait, Robb. Kevan Lannister is in charge, not Tywin."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Tywin Lannister is dead." Arya told him. "I killed him." Robb looked at her, before he broke into a grin and burst out laughing. Arya was furious. "I'm not lying! We were captured on our way back North and taken to Harrenhal. Tywin found out I was a girl and tasked me as his cupbearer, and when I knew he planned to leave I killed him!"

"Lord Tywin is dead, milord." Gendry added. "They made a huge fuss about it before we escaped."

"I thought some assassin killed him?" Hot Pie asked.

"I lied, stupid. I had to make it look like someone else killed him!" Arya exclaimed.

"No matter!" Robb said, raising his voice. "We will still give chase. Come, let us get inside. I know a woman that will be very happy to see you."

* * *

Another thing on Durran's 'to do list' was to pay a visit to the one bargaining chip he had over Robb Stark. Sansa had mainly stuck to the shadows in official events so far, so Durran hadn't really seen her. He knocked on the door and opened it to find Sansa sat at her dressing table.

"Your Grace." She said, surprised. She stood up and curtseyed.

"Please, there's no need for that." Durran waved off. "I came to see how you were."

"Very well thank you, Your Grace." Sansa lied.

"You don't need to lie to me, Sansa." Durran smiled, sitting on the bed. "You're in no danger here."

"I'm not lying." Sansa smiled sweetly. Durran just chuckled.

"I want to tell you what's going on. If I could, I'd let you go back to Winterfell." He told her. "But until Robb bends the knee, I can't afford that. You're the only thing that will stay his hand, do you understand?"

"I'm still a prisoner then." She said sadly.

"No, if you wish, I'll allow you to serve as the Queen's handmaiden." Durran said.

"Really?" Sansa said.

"You both need friends here to make life easier. I've… heard… about the things my Brother did and I apologise profoundly." He said. "He was cruel and vicious, and I want you to feel comfortable here."

"My Father was murdered here." Sansa said quickly, before apologising. "I'm sorry Your Grace I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did." Durran told her. "And I agree, what happened to your Father was murder plain and simple, and I will be trying to make up for that." He said, a whining from the corner distracted him, and Durran was surprised to see the direwolf Lady. "Lady's still here?"

"She knows where to hide and be quiet when I have visitors normally." She said, glaring at the wolf.

"It's ok. No harm will come to her." Durran laughed, before turning serious for a moment. "I was wondering if you knew what happened to Arya. I was surprised she wasn't in the city."

Sansa turned away, not wanting him to see her upset. "I've not seen Arya since before my Father was arrested." She admitted.

"Very well." Durran smiled sadly. "You shall be treated with the utmost respect, My Lady. I promise you, no more beatings or taunts or stripping or anything of the nature. Everything you do here, within reason, will be down to your choices."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Sansa smiled.

"Hopefully you'll be up in Winterfell in no time." He smiled, rising. He gave a nervous look towards the wolf, before leaving the room to let Sansa take in her new situation.

* * *

Catelyn Stark was worried. Not that that was anything new though, ever since Ned had died she had been worried for many reasons. For her son, fighting in a war for independence against the rest of the world. For her two youngest, all alone in the North surrounded by enemies. But mainly for her two girls, in the capital surrounded by people that hate them.

She looked around Harrenhal with Rickard Karstark, at the massacre that had taken place there. "So many dead…" She whispered.

"We need to do the same to theirs." Karstark told her, angrily.

"The Kingslayer is too valuable Rickard." Catelyn tried to soothe. "We need him alive, he's our only bargaining tool."

"Aye, I understand." Karstark growled. "I still want him to suffer."

"He will suffer My Lord. He will suffer." Catelyn nodded. She looked behind her, as Robb and Lord Bolton entered the castle with a small group.

"Lord Karstark. Yourself and Lord Bolton shall oversee the burial of the dead. Let's ease their journey into the next life as much as we can." Robb told them. Karstark and Bolton nodded, going to oversee the efforts.

"We cannot let this go unpunished Robb." Catelyn told her son.

"We won't." Robb told her. "First, I need to tell you something."

Catelyn looked at her son questioningly. "What?"

"The Lannisters lied." Robb told her. "They only had Sansa, Arya escaped."

Catelyn's breath hitched in her chest. "She escaped?"

"Aye." Robb grinned. "Escaped King's Landing, escaped a party of Gold Cloaks trying to find her, and escaped Harrenhal before all this."

Catelyn's mind was going haywire. "How… how do you know?" She asked. A small boy came out from behind Robb, and Catelyn almost didn't look twice before her eyes widened. The child looked like a boy, but the face… the face was all Ned. She took the child's face in her hands, and the tears coming from the child told her everything. "Arya?"

"Mother." Arya cried, and the two girls gripped each other fiercely, both sobbing their eyes out. Robb stood there a bit uncomfortably, but happy for his Mother.

"Come, let us get somewhere privately, we have quite a tale for you." Robb grinned.

* * *

Durran hadn't expected to go down to the cells at any point in his first few weeks as King, but that's where he found himself heading too. A prisoner had been throwing his recently confirmed dead Uncle's name around, and Durran wanted to handle it himself.

The cell door was opened, and inside was a man in his seeming mid 30's lounging around on a bed, with a young man in Lannister leathers on the floor beside him.

"Your Grace." The young man said, snapping to attention.

"Which one of you has been mentioning my Uncle constantly." Durran asked.

"That would be me." Bronn said, sitting upright. "I'm in his service, I was making sure he'd not forgotten about me. He owes me debts."

Durran clenched his teeth. "You should have saved him then. My Uncle died at the Gate of the Gods." He had heard numerous reports on the man called Bronn, and none had been that the man lacked for words. He did now though, as he opened and closed his mouth constantly, not knowing what to say. Durran continued. "So now, you both have options. Any promise my Uncle made you can tell me, if you prove yourself to me then I'll consider them. You fought on the wrong side of the battle so you have two choices. Bend the knee and come into my service and you'll be looked after. Refuse and I'll have you both hung."

The pair looked between them. The younger one immediately bent the knee. "Lord Tyrion always spoke well of you Your Grace. I would serve you if you would have me."

Durran nodded, and gestured for a guard to remove Podrick Payne to new quarters. Once Pod had been removed, he turned to Bronn. "And you?"

"I'm a sellsword, Your Grace." Bronn told him. "You pay me, and my sword is yours."

Durran laughed. "Are you always this brash? You don't make demands of me."

"Your Uncle enjoyed it." Bronn shrugged.

Durran thought for a moment. "I pay every man in my employ. You would no longer be a sellsword, you'd be a soldier for House Baratheon."

Bronn looked uneasy. "I'm no soldier."

"Then hang." Durran told him impatiently. "I've not got time for this. Apparently my Uncle liked you, I'm not sure why but he did. You can go on in his memory serving me and my family, or you can join my Uncle. Take your choice, sellsword."

Bronn thought for a moment. "Lord Tyrion promised me a castle and a wife."

"I'm also a Lannister." Durran told the man. "Serve me well and I'll see what I can do."

Bronn stood up then, sniffed and got down on one knee roughly. "Then I'll kill whoever you want me to, Your Grace."

Durran nodded, and turned to his guard. "Set him up with Payne, they can stay together." The guard nodded, and turned to take Bronn to some new chambers. Durran stopped the guard and whispered in his ear. "Watch him carefully, I don't trust him."

* * *

The next day, Durran stood at the entrance to the Red Keep. Dany and Cersei were either side of him, with Tommen next to Cersei and the Small Council all close. Looking up, he saw three ravens depart the castle. Two heading Northwards to Harrenhal and the Eyrie, and one heading Southwards to Sunspear. Hoping for the best, he turned his eyes downwards as the wheelhouse holding his little sister rolled into view.

Looking sideways towards his Mother, he grinned as he saw her beaming face looking down as the wheelhouse rolled to a stop. Turning back, he saw the golden hair of Myrcella emerge from the wheelhouse, closely followed by the black hair of Shireen.

Surprised, he waited for Myrcella to walk up to him, and the two girls curtseyed low. "Your Grace." They both said.

"Sister, cousin." Durran smiled. "Welcome to King's Landing. I trust your journey was well?"

"Well enough, Your Grace." Shireen grinned. "My Mother asked me to give this to you." She handed him a letter with Stannis' seal on, and Durran ripped it open. It asked him to take Shireen on as a ward, in hope of a better match eventually and Durran could accept that. Pocketing the letter, he continued to make brief small talk with the girls when Durran heard a slight cough from Cersei next to him and he turned, giving her a stern look.

"May I introduce my wife, Queen Daenerys." He told them both. Dany stepped forwards and brought Myrcella into a hug.

"Sister." She smiled.

"My Queen." Myrcella curtseyed again, and Shireen followed suit.

"Dinner has been prepared in the Queen Mother's chambers." Durran told them both. "You must both been famished."

"We are." They both said, giggling at the unison. Durran laughed lightly.

"I'll let you all get reacquainted and join you soon. My Queen?" He said, offering out his arm. Dany graciously accepted it, and they both turned back towards the castle, leaving Cersei and Tommen to rush towards Myrcella to informally welcome her home.


	13. The Wolf Pounces

"' _To His Grace Robb, of House Stark. King of the First Men. Lord of Winterfell and King of the North and Trident. I write to you in a hope to end the animosity between the Iron Throne and Winterfell. Two years ago, our families were together and it seemed to me as though we became friends. I appeal to that friendship now. We are not enemies, you or I. My Brother committed heinous crimes against House Stark and the North, and rightfully led you to rebellion. Joffrey no longer lives, and in the name of my Father, Robert the First of his name, I encourage you to journey to a site between Harrenhal and King's Landing to set up peace terms. I shall give Sansa back to you, and help with the Ironborn problem. Bend the knee to me my friend and we shall unite the Kingdom's as our Father's did. Durran, of House Baratheon. First of His Name. King of the Andals. Rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm.'_ " Greatjon Umber read out. "Tell me, Your Grace, you can't believe this horseshit?"

"We were friends when his family came up to the North, Lord Umber." Robb told him. "I see no reason why he would lie."

"He's scared. We've won every battle, beaten back Tywin Lannister and he's worried about us." The Greatjon scoffed. "He'll ambush us at these peace talks."

"Arya told me he was kind to her." Catelyn shrugged. "He defended her against Joffrey."

"They were still family though My Lady. His Mother is the reason Ned is dead." The Greatjon argued.

"Joffrey is the reason my Father is dead." Robb argued. "Though Cersei should have stopped him."

"We can't take this lightly, Your Grace. I'm sure King Durran will adhere to favourable terms." Roose Bolton said.

"Favourable? He'd have us shackled to that iron chair like the rest of them!" Rickard Karstark argued. "He's half Lannister, he can't be trusted."

"Don't let your personal feelings get in the way of logic, Lord Karstark." Bolton warned.

"Personal feelings?" Karstark roared. "The Lannisters killed my sons. I'd have their heads before I bend to them."

"We wouldn't be bending to the Lannisters." Robb said, but wasn't convinced himself.

"He's part Lannister, making him a Lannister." Karstark spat.

"Stannis Baratheon is regent, not Cersei, not Tyrion, not any Lannister. My husband trusted the Baratheons." Catelyn argued. "My daughter is still in the Capital. I say we go to these talks and..."

"We can still beat them." Karstark spat, interrupting her. "With the help of the Vale…"

"I've sent raven upon raven to Lady Arryn." Robb interrupted, with contempt in his voice. "Family she may be, but an ally she is not."

"The Lannister army is here." The Greatjon said, pointing to an area of the Crownlands on the map on the table. "We can break them and that's the West dealt with, they won't be able to put a decent host together for an entire generation. If our scouts are right, the Stormlands and Crownlands could put maybe 20,000 men together after all their losses. We can take that."

"And the Reach?" Bolton asked.

"Only tied together with Durran by Renly Baratheon." Robb said, seeing where this was going. "If we can kill Renly and send word to Mace Tyrell…"

"Then we can win them to our cause." Karstark grinned.

"But how? Mace Tyrell will want a marriage." Catelyn asked.

"And we have an unwed King." The Greatjon told her.

"He is betrothed to House Frey." Catelyn reminded everybody. "Or did you forget that?"

"How many men can the Reach call?" Robb asked.

"With the rumoured losses… 85,000 men maximum? Likely they'll only call up around 50,000 though." Bolton suggested.

"And House Frey only give us 5,000." Robb told them. "Breaking my vow for 80,000 men."

"Lord Frey would understand, and House Tyrell has plenty of branches to wed into." Karstark waved off.

"Lord Frey has never understood a slight in his life." Catelyn said angrily. "Our best chance to get Sansa back is to negotiate!"

Robb looked at her warningly. "Mother, I want Sansa back too I truly do, but this isn't only about that anymore. We've declared our independence. My promise to the North and the Riverlands was to be free of the Iron Throne and we are winning. I cannot go back on that. We can win this war."

Catelyn looked angry, but kept her mouth shut. "What do we do then, Your Grace?" Lord Bolton asked.

Robb thought for a moment, staring intently at the map. "Prepare to march. We need to decimate the Lannister forces before they can get close enough to King's Landing."

* * *

Another large-scale arrival wasn't what Durran needed with the silence coming from most of the Kingdom's. That's what he got though, as the Royal party watched the over the top Tyrell procession come into the Red Keep. Dany was to his side, and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be over soon, I can handle settling them in, you just say your piece and then head to the Small Council chamber." She whispered.

Durran grinned. "I don't deserve you."

"Remember that." Dany said, raising an eyebrow happily. Mace and Margaery Tyrell left the wheelhouse and came striding up to them. They both got to one knee, and Durran quickly bid them to rise.

"Lord Tyrell, Lady Margaery. Welcome to King's Landing." Durran said. "I'm so sorry about Ser Loras, he died bravely."

Margaery looked sad, but Mace Tyrell puffed out his chest. "He died for his King, he died in battle. That's all he ever wanted, Your Grace. May I introduce formally my daughter, Lady Margaery, and my nephew and captain of the guards, Garlan…"

"I hate to appear rude but a rather important Small Council meeting requires my attention, Lord Tyrell." Durran interrupted the lengthy introductions. "Queen Daenerys will see that you settle in."

Mace Tyrell cleared his throat, not sure what to make of being interrupted. "I would be happy to join the meeting, Your Grace."

"I had presumed you were tired, Lord Tyrell. There is no rush, I don't think any matters require the Master of Commerce just yet." Durran told him.

"I wish to help in any way I can." Mace grinned. Durran sighed silently and nodded.

"Very well, this way then." Durran said, gesturing Mace into the castle. They spoke amicably about the rebuilding of the walls and the coronation before they entered the room. Varys was giving a report. Durran waved him to continue before any words could be spoken.

"As I was saying, there has been no word from either Dorne or the Vale, but Robb Stark has sent a raven back from Harrenhal." Varys said. Durran was immediately interested.

"What did he say?" Randyll Tarly asked, looking grumpier than normal.

"He wrote.  _'The North will remember. Blood cannot be unspilled. Justice cannot be forgotten.'_ " Varys said, and the mood darkened.

"It's war then." Baelish remarked.

"We could still reach him, I just need to meet with him." Durran insisted.

"No." Stannis said firmly. "Stark has played his hand, we must prepare for war."

"Agreed." Randyll Tarly said. "How many men do we have now?"

"Most are staying for the rebuilding effort." Renly said. "A large amount though have joined the Gold Cloaks ranks, so men available to march, I'd suggest around 20,000 if we call upon more Reachmen?"

"We lost a lot in the taking of the city, and now we're losing more able-bodied soldiers in the rebuilding of it." Durran sighed.

"Kevan Lannister still has around 25,000 men. If we join up with him we can easily outnumber Stark." Randyll Tarly said.

"Gather the men and supplies now. I want word from Lannister before we do anything." Stannis ordered. Randyll Tarly and Renly nodded.

"Who will lead?" Durran asked. Stannis thought.

"Lord Randyll, Lord Renly. You shall assist the King in this." Stannis said. "If I was fit I would lead in his place, but my eye isn't ready yet. I shall stay here and run the Kingdom, you shall go and bring the North to heel."

Durran felt proud that Stannis trusted him enough, Baelish on the other hand argued against it. "Is it wise to send the King on this mission? Robb Stark has never lost a battle."

"Robb Stark has only faced my Grandfather on the battlefield that is of any use in the planning of war." Durran argued. "Lord Randyll was the only man to defeat my Father. Lord Stannis almost single handedly planned and manned the mission to destroy the Iron Fleet. They are more than capable of beating back Robb."

He noticed Mace Tyrell's features frown upon the praise of Randyll Tarly, but ignored it. The rest of the Small Council nodded in agreement.

"Your Grace, about Lysa Arryn." Baelish said. "I believe I can help with that."

"How?" Stannis asked.

Baelish looked around the room. "A few of you were here under King Robert's Small Council. You will know that Lysa and I were friendly. We grew up together, we have a connection we can only share with Lady Catelyn Stark and Lord Edmure. I believe if I go to the Eyrie I can bring her back to the fold."

Durran looked impressed at this, and was seriously considering suggesting it. Stannis however, wasn't convinced. "You've seen the state of the city. You've seen how much destruction has been caused, how much that will cost to rebuild. You believe that as Master of Coin, your duty is not to the treasury of the crown, but to rekindle a friendship hundreds of miles away?"

"I believe it can only help the stability of the crown." Baelish said.

"The best way you can help the stability of the crown is to increase the crown's incomings." Stannis told him strongly. "We cannot take out further loans, we cannot afford it. Stabilise the finances and make sure we have enough gold to rebuild the city. Then you can worry about Lysa Arryn, Lord Baelish."

"Of course, Lord Regent." Baelish said, daggers in his eyes.

"Is there anything else?" Stannis asked. The others in the room all shook their heads. "Very well, we shall reconvene tomorrow."

Durran stayed behind for a moment while the room filed out. Stannis was the only one left. "You really think I'm ready to lead an attack?"

Stannis looked at him, unnervingly for Durran as the paleness of Stannis' blind eye was terrifying. "You know my history. What was my first real battle?"

Durran thought for a moment. "Do you count the siege?"

"No." Stannis said. "The only battle we faced there was with starvation. The first military battle."

"Fair Isle. The naval battle." Durran told him.

"And what was I doing in my first true taste of mass warfare?" Stannis asked.

"Commanding." Durran said, starting to realise the point.

"Commanding." Stannis repeated. "That was my first true taste of warfare. You have had two battles and a siege already, while still following me. You've been brought up to lead armies since you were four years old. You're ready."

Durran felt pride surge through him at his Uncle's words. Grinning, he nodded. "I'm ready." He repeated. "I'm ready to lead."

"Good. A true King doesn't shy away from battle. Robb Stark has proven he is willing to stand with his men on the front lines. You shall do the same." Stannis said, laying a hand on Durran's shoulder. "I believe in you, nephew."

"Thank you, Uncle." Durran said.

"Now go and see the Queen." Stannis said. "She needs to know what is happening, and you should spend as much time as possible with her."

Durran furrowed his brow, before laughing at Stannis' meaning. "Uncle!" He laughed.

"You need an heir, before people start questioning why you won't announce Tommen as your heir." Stannis said sternly.

"We're working on it." Durran told him, before leaving the room swiftly before Stannis could embarrass him even more.

* * *

Panting and sweating, Durran pulled out of Dany and collapsed on their bed. Dany cuddled into him, who was also panting as the effects of her release began to fade.

"Wow." She grinned.

"Wow indeed." Durran laughed. They fell into silence, catching their breath and just holding one another. Content, Durran didn't want to move a muscle.

"Why do you have to go?" Dany asked. "Can't we just stay like this forever?"

Durran laughed, kissing her on the top of her head. "That would be wonderful." He grinned.

"I'm serious, send Renly or someone. Not you. I don't want to be apart from you again." She told him.

"The men need me. I need to be there." Durran told her. "I need to command, to earn my peoples respect."

"I need you here." Dany pouted childishly, earning a grin from Durran. He wrapped his arms tighter round her naked form.

"You'll be busy. I want you in the Small Council Meetings while I'm away." Durran told her. Dany was surprised, and rolled over so her front was on the sheets, facing Durran.

"Me on the Small Council? Are you serious?" Dany asked.

Durran nodded his head. "There will be times when I am away from King's Landing. I want you there in my stead, representing us. There is nobody in this world I trust more than I do you my love."

Dany blushed, and reached up to kiss him fiercely. "Just make sure you come back to me."

"I always will." Durran whispered, and he brought her closer to him, kissing her again.

* * *

Durran hated being rushed around. Davos Seaworth had rushed up to the King's chambers stating that the Small Council required him urgently, so Durran grumpily made his way past the Iron Throne and into the Small Council Chambers, where everyone looked worried.

"What has happened?" Durran asked. He needn't have bothered though, as Kevan Lannister's severed head was placed on the centre of the table.

"The Northmen fell on them near Antlers. The castle has been taken and the Lannister host scattered." Varys explained.

"How many dead?" Stannis asked.

"10,000 roughly." Varys shrugged.

"15,000 still available then. We need to regroup them." Randyll Tarly stated.

"Yes, but who will lead?" Renly asked. "Tommen is too young, and the next capable Lannister…"

"Ser Daven still lives. Ser Stafford's son." Varys told them. "He's gathered the biggest host at Sow's Horn, some 5,000 strong."

"We need to send someone to gather the scattered forces." Durran told them.

"We should gather them at Brindlewood." Randyll Tarly told them all.

"Agreed. I'll see to it that messengers are sent out." Stannis said. "Send word to Sow's Horn too, Daven Lannister is the most senior Lannister left. We need him to marshal the Western forces and to lead them. Your Grace, I'm of a mind to have him named Warden of the West until Tommen comes of age."

Durran nodded. "Draw up the documents and I'll sign them before we leave Uncle."

"Your Grace." Stannis nodded.

"How many men have we got in King's Landing ready to march?" Durran asked.

"12,000 currently." Randyll Tarly told him.

"Prepare them. We march for Brindlewood as soon as we can." Durran told them. The Small Council nodded, and more medial things were discussed before the council was adjourned. Durran quickly made his way to Varys, making sure they were alone in the Throne Room before speaking.

"Your Grace." Varys said. "How may I assist you?"

Durran looked up at the Iron Throne from the floor below. "I hate that chair." He told the eunuch.

"It's yours however, by rights." Varys told him.

"Aye." Durran sighed. "How easy is it for you to send word to Roose Bolton?"

Varys furrowed his brow. "Easy enough. He is at Antlers with Robb Stark, but his men still hold Harrenhal."

"Get a message to him." Durran said. "Silently."

Varys grinned. "And what should this message contain?"

Durran sighed, not liking his own tactics, but finding them necessary. "Promises of a pardon, so long as he delivers Robb Stark to me alive."

* * *

It was almost time to leave. Durran was sat in his chambers in the yellow leather armour of his House cleaning Stormbringer as Dany fretted over the fact he had to go. Easing the oil over the large blade, he had almost drowned out her worrying. Almost.

"What if you don't come back? What happens then? Do I crown Tommen, do I take the throne myself? People don't know me well enough and Tommen isn't Robert's son. I don't know what to do." She said, pacing the room. Durran looked up, grinning at her expression. "What?" She asked, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"Do you know how beautiful you look when you're worried?" Durran asked. Dany scoffed, and went over to smack him on the arm lightly.

"Now isn't the time!" Dany complained loudly, but with a hint of a smile.

"You worry too much." Durran told her, placing Stormbringer down and rising to hug her gently. Dany melted into his body, wrapping her arms as far around his muscled torso as she could. "I'll be fine, I promise you I shall return."

Dany wasn't convinced. "What about Robb? What will you do?"

Durran sighed, stepping away from her to re-sheathe the greatsword. "Capture him alive if possible. If not, we have his true heir in the Capital."

"It's such a shame, why can't he just bend the knee." Dany huffed.

Durran laughed through his nose. "My family has caused him no ends of pain." He told her. "If our roles were reversed I would be exactly the same."

Dany nodded briefly. "Just come back to me." She whispered again.

"Always." Durran whispered back, before capturing her lips with his own. They stayed standing, kissing for what seemed like the longest time, when a knock at the door came. The married couple parted, and Durran called the interrupter in.

It was Ser Robar, his black Kingsguard armour shining in the early morning light. "Your Grace, it's time."

Durran nodded, and kissed Dany a final time. "Wave me off?" He asked.

Dany smiled. "I'll watch you from here until I can no longer see you on the horizon." Durran grinned, hugging her a final time before picking up his sword and turning back to her.

"Ser Arys and Ser Balon will be with you while I'm away." He reminded her. "Try not to cause them too much trouble."

"Of course." Dany laughed. "Go, gift me two more Kingdoms on your return."

Durran burst out laughing at that. "As my Queen commands." He grinned, grasping his antlered helm from the table and striding out of the room, flanked by Ser Robar.

They made their way down to the courtyard, where Ser Barristan and Renly were mounted up already. Stannis was talking to Renly, so Durran found his black destrier and mounted up. Stannis came over to speak to him quickly though.

"Ensure you listen to your advisors, but trust your own instincts." He instructed. "Randyll Tarly is excellent, but so are you."

"Such praise Uncle." Durran grinned.

"I regret it already." Stannis said sharply, with a hint of a smile. Durran laughed loudly, and the pair shook each other's hands firmly.

"Look after my Kingdom, and let Dany help where she can, would you?" Durran asked. "The stability we shall have will come from her too. I want her to help rule not be locked away on the side lines."

"Of course, Your Grace. She'll be privy to all of our dealings on the Small Council." Stannis bowed his head politely. Durran grinned, then turned to Renly.

"Ready?" He asked jovially. Renly just nodded his head firmly. Durran turned to his Kingsguard. "Let us be away. We have a war to win."

* * *

Hours later, Dany was on their balcony watching as the last remnants of the army trailed away to the North up the Kingsroad. Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark was with her.

"I do hope they can sort it out amicably." Sansa sighed. Dany nodded, knowing the torment Sansa must be going through.

"His Grace has no intention of harming Robb, don't worry about that." Dany smiled kindly. "Fingers crossed we shall all be at peace, and you'll be on your way back to Winterfell in no time."

Sansa smiled softly at that. The girl was still guarded, but Dany had managed to earn her affection and trust it seemed.

"I do hope it is quick." Margaery Tyrell told them. "I'd rather like to be shown around my new seat."

"Where has Lord Renly been granted?" Sansa asked.

"Wendwater." Margaery said, clearly not happy at that but trying to put on a face.

"An important castle." Dany told her. "Control Wendwater and you control the Kingswood and the route into the Stormlands, not to mention the entire Wendwater river is yours."

Margaery nodded at that. "I do hope my Lord will take me sailing often."

"I'm sure Lord Renly will." Sansa said happily. "He is as kind as he is gallant."

Dany forced herself not to laugh at the girl's words. Renly had barely said a word since they took the capital, let alone smile. "I'm sure the tranquillity of the river will ease some of the pain from Ser Loras' passing. They were close, no?" She asked sweetly.

Margaery stared at Dany, smiling equally as sweetly. "They were, as expected from a former squire."

Dany nodded. "He was very brave. I know Durran feels awful."

Margaery bowed her head. "It wasn't his Grace's fault."

Sansa turned to Margaery. "Ser Loras was the heir to Highgarden, wasn't he? Has your Father decided on a new heir?"

Dany could see Margaery was pained, but didn't quite trust her yet so allowed the question to hang. The Tyrell smiled thinly. "We have a number of cousins and members of our House. My late Uncle Harlan himself had two sons. I presume one of Willas or Garlan shall be chosen. Likely Willas, the elder."

"The matters of succession can wait another day, My Ladies." Dany told them, not wanting the mood to turn as gloomy as she felt about Durran leaving. "Come, we have a delightful dinner waiting for us with the Queen Mother."

Sansa looked nervous. "Is it wise for me to go, what with the King fighting my traitor brother soon."

Margaery smiled at Sansa. "He is still your Brother, love. Fighting for your family."

"Lady Margaery is right." Dany nodded. "Feel no shame in him, not with us." She reached out for her hand, and led her out of the room. "Princess Myrcella insists on your presence anyway, if there's a way to infuriate my good-mother, it's being friendly with her daughter."

The three girls giggled as they left the room, trying to keep their spirits up as the people they cared about most in the world readied themselves for more war.

* * *

The Northerners had been strategically chasing stragglers of the Antlers massacre, being careful not to venture too far away from the main host. Robb had taken up his seat in the main castle, with the banners of House Buckwell having been torn down. He was planning his next move when Lord Karstark came in with two of his men, and a third, having been bloodied and dressed in the yellow of House Baratheon.

"Lord Karstark. I did not expect you here." Robb admitted.

"I did not expect to be back so soon Your Grace." The elder man told Robb. "We found this scout roaming around the countryside."

Robb stood tall, and walked over to the man menacingly, Grey Wind perking up from beside the table and following the King. "Who is he?"

"A messenger, Your Grace. It seems Baratheon is rallying the broken Lannisters to a single spot, to meet up with his army." Karstark said. Robb smiled at the news.

"Easy pickings." Robb grinned. He stood closer to the man, inches away from his face. "Where are they gathering?"

The man stayed silent, shaking in fear. Karstark punched him solidly in the stomach but the man made no effort to tell them. Robb called his bannerman off after a few more punches and laid his hand on Grey Wind's neck. Silently giving the wolf an order, Grey Wind stepped forward, and with a loud growl, latched his teeth onto the messenger's arm.

The Baratheon man cried out in pain, as Grey Wind tore off the entire arm halfway down the forearm. The wolf spat it out and made his way back to Robb, who stepped forward again.

"You have many other body parts." Robb told the man. "Tell me where they are heading, and this all stops."

The man looked at the wolf in fear. "Brindlewood." He cried, sobbing his heart out. "They're gathering at Brindlewood!"

Robb nodded in acknowledgement, and nodded towards Karstark, who pulled out a dagger and drew it across the messenger's neck. Turning to his map, he located Brindlewood and grinned. "Lord Karstark." He called.

"Your Grace."

"Call the other Lords to council. We make a plan, win this battle and we can have one hand on victory."


	14. Brindlewood

The first night the 12,000 men of Durran's forces had stopped at Hayford Castle, and from there it was only a couple of days march up the Kingsroad towards the village of Brindlewood where a further 10,000 Westermen were holding up. Durran had ordered the town evacuated before the Baratheon army had arrived, and had passed a steady stream of villagers the day before arrival.

He set up camp in the village square, with Renly, Randyll Tarly and Daven Lannister, the new Lannister commander. As soon as the command tent was erected, Durran called a council meeting. He looked around the room and noticed a distinct lack of Westerners. Ser Daven had managed to keep a host of 5,000 away from the Northerners, but others hadn't been so lucky. Ser Addam Marbrand had been slain, as had the Strongboar, Ser Lyle Crakehall, and Ser Robert Brax. Three important families of the West had been torn apart by Robb Stark's assault.

"What happened?" Randyll Tarly asked.

"We marched East after Lord Tywin was killed, not really knowing what to do." The bearded Lannister said. "The indecision cost us, as soon as we had a plan, they decimated us. I was lucky enough to be leading the van, we were already on the move."

Durran clenched his teeth in annoyance. "We need to do something quickly. They have the numbers right now."

"We keep marching up the Kingsroad." Randyll told them. "We break off at the turn towards the Riverlands and march to Antlers. The Northmen will either need to face us as we get behind them or march to King's Landing, where repairs will be done by then and we can take their rear."

Daven nodded. "I like it. Catch them in two minds."

"If they choose to meet us, Lord Mace should have formed a second, larger host by then." Randyll continued. "Which can then take the Northerners in the rear."

"We should move tomorrow at first light then, ensure we can get as close to Harrenhal as we can in a single day." Daven said, and the council room nodded.

"Very well. See to your men." Randyll said, and the room began to disperse. Durran followed his uncle into his tent however, concerned at his lack of input.

His Uncle was just lying on the small bed staring up into space. Leaving Ser Barristan outside the tent, Durran made himself known. Renly looked over, and sat up.

"Your Grace, I thought the meeting was over." Renly said monotonously.

"It is Uncle." Durran said, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to Renly. Renly took it and sipped is cautiously. "I'm here because I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Renly said quickly.

"No, you're not." Durran said. "It's clear to see that you are suffering from after we took King's Landing."

Renly sighed, and took a larger gulp of his drink. "We won the day."

"And yet you have acted like we lost." Durran tried to sound kind. "I know Loras was once your squire, is it his death? I understand if it is…"

"You understand." Renly scoffed. "You understand nothing."

Durran bit back an angry retort. "Then explain." He said.

"I grew up with Loras. He was my first real friend, he was my confidante. He was my lo… he was the only man I felt like I could trust unconditionally." Renly said, tears forming in his eyes. "And I watched him die. I watched him get engulfed by wildfire and melt. How am I meant to move on from that and be happy?"

Durran understood now. The slip of the tongue had given Renly's true relationship with Loras away. "You're not meant to move on." Durran said, sitting down. "You fight. You channel that rage, that hurt into something positive."

"I won't let you down in the war nephew." Renly said.

"I know." Durran smiled. "If you need to go back to King's Landing though…"

"I'm fine." Renly said sternly.

Durran nodded. "Ok." He said. They fell into silence for a moment, just staring at the tent sides when Durran spoke again. "I understand more now. If I lost Dany, I don't know how I'd go on."

Renly looked at Durran aghast. "I… I don't see how it's comparable Your Grace." He said nervously.

"Yes, you do, and so do I." Durran smiled. "I have no feelings against it Uncle, you love who you love. I love a Targaryen, my family's sworn enemy. I understand a bit about forbidden love."

Renly sighed. "When he died, I lost myself. I'm not the same man I was."

"I know, but you don't have to be. Be better in his memory." Durran said, standing. He placed his hand on Renly's shoulder comfortingly.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Renly nodded.

"Get some rest. I want you sharp for the march." Durran said, before exiting the tent. Ser Barristan was stood facing away. "How much of that did you hear?" Durran asked his Lord Commander.

"All of it, Your Grace. Only I did though." Ser Barristan told him.

"Not a word." Durran ordered. "We shall respect his privacy and his grief."

"Of course, Your Grace." Barristan nodded. Durran began walking then, making his way back to his tent to rest up himself.

* * *

Dany looked out over the city as her dragons flew outside over Blackwater Bay. Melisandre had told her how quickly they would grow, but even the Red Woman had been surprised at the extent of the growth. Rhaellar was the calmest, and was just big enough to be able to ride, though Dany wouldn't do such a thing until Durran was back.

She was pulled back into the room as Sansa Stark had given a painful tug of her hair with the hairbrush.

"Sorry, Your Grace." Sansa apologised.

"It's ok." Dany told the girl. They fell into silence again as the only noise became the brush moving through Dany's silver blonde hair. Moments passed and Dany chuckled lightly at the sight of Aelyx and Dārys play fighting mid-air.

"What's going to happen to me?" Sansa asked from behind her. Dany froze. She had gotten to know Sansa fairly well over the last few weeks, and sometimes forgot that it was her brother that Durran was at war against.

"I know Durran, he won't want harm to come to Robb but he cannot be allowed to stay as Lord of Winterfell, not after carrying on his war." Dany told her. "Durran will send him to the Wall, and Winterfell shall pass to you. We'll find you a good match Sansa I promise." At that, she felt Sansa relax slightly behind her, and went back to watching her Dragons. "They'll be big enough to ride soon, and I can do my part for Durran."

Sighing, Dany began imagining herself as a fearsome dragon rider until a knock on the door came, and Ser Arys entered.

"Your Grace, a Small Council meeting has been called." The Kingsguard of the Reach said.

"Thank you, Ser Arys. I'll be right down." Dany smiled. The door closed behind him, and Dany felt Sansa finish tying up her hair in an intricate Southern style. "The black and red dress today please, Sansa."

* * *

Dany arrived in the Small Council chambers to see the meeting was already underway, with Mace Tyrell discussing food imports from the Reach.

"… we can increase the number of wagons to 80 a day if needs be, Lord Hand." The Fat Flower was saying.

"Very good." Stannis nodded. He looked up and saw Dany at the doorway and stood, with the rest of the remaining Small Council following suit. "Your Grace."

"Lord Hand." Dany said regally. "I apologise for being late."

"Not to worry, we've prepared a seat." He said, pointing to a newly fashioned seat to the right-hand side of what she presumed was Durran's empty chair. Whereas Durran's had the Baratheon sigil printed on the leather, Dany was touched to see the dragon of House Targaryen printed on her one, in the Baratheon colours. She took a seat, and the men followed suit.

"My Lords. Please carry on." She instructed.

Mace Tyrell looked nervously at her, but coughed and continued. "Yes, so more food can be brought into the Red Keep."

"Into the city." Dany interrupted, trying to assert some authority. "I've been speaking with your daughter, Lord Tyrell and she informs me that the poor of the city would benefit much more from the foodstock you can bring in than we would here in the Keep."

Stannis nodded. "We shall keep 20 wagons a day, the other 60 shall be distributed at specified areas within the city." He said, the regent's authority ringing around the room. "The matter is closed. Varys, any news from Brindlewood?"

"Whispers, my Lord Hand." Varys said silkily. "The King has arrived this morning I have been told."

"Good." Stannis said.

"He requires more men be readied. They're anticipating the Northman either following them or attacking the city. Either way we need another host as soon as we can." Varys said.

"Lord Tyrell, how many men have you available in the city?" Baelish asked.

"With the walls just about repaired…" Mace Tyrell said, thinking. "18,000 able to march?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Stannis asked snappily. Dany had to hide the grin that was forming on her face.

"Telling My Lord." Tyrell nodded. "18,000 men ready."

"See to it they are ready at a moment's notice." Stannis ordered. Mace Tyrell nodded. Minor other details were discussed as Dany listened on, such as the slow stream of refugees coming into the city and the lack of noise from the Vale and Dorne, when Dany brought up a topic.

"We need to discuss Sansa Stark." She said.

"We do?" Baelish asked amusedly.

"With Robb Stark soon to be sent to the Wall and the two younger boys dead, she is the heir to Winterfell." Dany told them. "A match needs to be made. A suitable match that ties the North to the heartbeat of our Kingdom. Stefan perhaps?" She asked Stannis.

"Stefan is to be the Lord of Storm's End, he can't be a Lord Consort as well." Stannis shook his head. "No, somebody else."

"The Reach perhaps?" Dany asked. "Lord Tyrell, your younger nephew, Harlan, is it?"

"Garlan." Mace Tyrell corrected. "Yes… Perhaps if we're sending him up North, then his elder brother Willas would be more ideal no?"

"Willas, the cripple?" Baelish asked. "Isn't he your heir?"

"Lord Tyrell hasn't named his heir yet." Varys reminded Baelish. "He can easily name Garlan."

"I can." Mace said. "He would do well in the North, Willas. Yes. I consent to Willas marrying the Stark girl matrilineally."

"I shall talk to Sansa about it, if the Lord Regent agrees." Dany nodded to Stannis.

"Yes. It ties House Stark to a loyal House." Stannis said, more accusingly at Tyrell than anything. "First, we shall see to it that Robb Stark is defeated. Then we shall discuss the marriage in more detail, but gage the girl's opinion."

"Lord Hand." Dany nodded politely.

"If there's nothing else." Stannis said. Nobody had anything else to say, and slowly the room thinned out. Dany went to leave after Pycelle had shuffled out, but Stannis stopped her just as she got to the door.

"Your Grace." He had called, his eye still on some paperwork in front of him.

"Lord Stannis?"

Stannis didn't move his head, but he lifted his eye up to meet Dany's gaze. "Well done today." Was all he said, before focusing once more on his paperwork. "Go and spend some time with your, pets."

"Thank you." Dany tried to stop from grinning, before walking out of the room with Ser Arys following behind her.

* * *

The night was quiet. Most of the men were resting for the long march ahead the next day, and Durran was in his personal tent quietly sipping some lemon water.

Finishing the drink, he called his squire in to take off his armour. His Uncle Tyrion had enjoyed the Payne boy, so Durran had picked him himself. He didn't talk much, but being away from Dany hadn't put Durran in a talkative mood. Once he was out of his armour, in just a baggy shirt and black trousers he went to lay down, and get a few hours' sleep. Tossing, it took him a while but finally sleep overcame him.

He did not, however, expect to be woken up by screaming men and the face of Podrick Payne shaking him vigorously.

"Your Grace! Your Grace!" The boy was shouting.

"What? What's going on?" Durran asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Ambush, Your Grace." Barristan said from the tent door, where he and Ser Robar were stood, panting.

"The Starks have us penned. They killed the scouts and the lookouts. They fenced us in and set half the camp on fire." Robar growled angrily.

"What? How?" Durran asked angrily, walking towards his armour.

"There's no time Your Grace!" Barristan said, handing Durran Stormbringer. "We have to leave!"

"We have to fight, Ser!" Durran shouted back.

"They're everywhere." Robar told him. "They've surrounded us. Randyll Tarly was leading an offensive to the south but…"

"We need to go." Barristan said insistently, practically dragging Durran out by the scruff of his shirt. Immediately Durran looked around and saw burning tents everywhere. Men were screaming, either trying to put out the flames engulfing their bodies, or trying to hold their entrails or body parts in to keep them alive. Northerners were running through the camp, slaughtering the half-asleep army.

"How did this happen." Durran growled.

"They must have snuck men in as refugees of the Lannister army." Robar surmised. "Planted them as scouts and lookouts, and disposed of our own."

"It's what I would have done." Barristan nodded.

There was no more time to talk. A group of five Northmen came charging at them and Durran readied himself. Barefooted and almost unprotected, he feigned an attack to get on the offensive, before twisting his body past the oncoming sword and swiping upwards. Sword connected with flesh and bone, as the Northman's sword arm came flying off of his body. There was no time to stop though, as another one roared, and Durran ducked underneath the sword swing and thrust Stormbringer into his gut. Wrenching it out, he kicked the Northman to one side before taking a fallen Stark shield.

Feeling more protected, he found another enemy and raised his shield to block an arrow coming for his chest, before rushing into battle once more.

The camp was like a maze, fire was everywhere and it took a good amount of time to find Randyll Tarly and Renly, fighting a group of Northmen. Durran and his small party helped, and with only minor cuts, they won and had a small rest bite.

"We've broken through the barriers but they've got the camp surrounded. We can make a break for it but it'll have to be quick." Randyll said. Men were trickling in to the large unburnt area, and Durran surmised about 12,000 people had to be there, holding off Northmen or looking after the injured.

"We need a distraction." Durran told them. "Look like we're making an offensive to the south, then break through somewhere else.

"East." Barristan nodded. "Stokeworth."

"Aye." The group agreed.

"I'll lead it." Renly said. Durran looked at him in shock.

"It's a suicide mission." He complained. "No."

"You're the only one that matters Durran!" Renly roared. "Ser Barristan, Lord Randyll. Get the King to safety. Ser Robar, with me." Ser Barristan was about to complain, but Renly cut him off. "The King is still a minor and I am the brother of the Hand and Master of Laws! Protect your King, Lord Commander."

Barristan looked towards Randyll Tarly, who just nodded solemnly. "Very well, My Lord."

"No!" Durran cried. "I won't leave you!"

Renly just looked strongly at his Nephew, before giving a final nod to Lord Tarly. Durran complained and went to follow his Uncle, but he didn't get a choice. Randyll and Ser Barristan dragged the struggling King between them, picking up men as they went. They could just about hear Renly giving a rousing speech to the men left behind before he fell out of sight through the fire.

He was angry, stupidly angry and he took it out on the oncoming Northman. The four of them and about ten Baratheon soldiers made it over the fence, and were pleasantly surprised to see most Northmen had fallen for the bait. He did, however, notice an older man in Stark armour bringing men to meet them.

"House Glover." Podrick Payne told them. "A silver armoured fist on a field of red. And House Cerwyn, the battle-axe on a silver field."

"Halt!" Lord Glover said. "Nobody leaves."

"I'll handle this this Your Grace." Ser Barristan said, gripping his sword tighter.

"No, hold the others off." Durran said. He stood in front of Lord Glover. "Let us go, My Lord, and I shall spare you my wrath after we win this war."

"Who is this?" The young man next to him laughed. "Some street rat by the looks of it."

"Speak carefully." Ser Barristan growled. "You're talking to your King."

"Our King is Robb, of House Stark, Ser Barristan." Galbart Glover said. Barristan was surprised at being recognised. "I remember you yes, I was there when Roose Bolton wanted your head after the Trident, but we talked King Robert out of it."

"For which I am grateful for my Lord, it allowed me to serve my rightful King, Durran." Barristan said.

"Treat them well." Glover told his men. "King Robb doesn't want Baratheon harmed."

Durran had had enough though. His anger was brimming to the surface and he had snapped. He grabbed Glover's armed hand with his left hand, and lashed out with his right. His fist met Glover's face, and the older man toppled to the floor.

Around him, swords began to clash as the Northmen and the Crown Loyalists met, but Durran's focus was solely on pummelling Galbart Glover's face to a pulp. Blow after blow came, before he was being dragged off by somebody. He grinned to himself to see nothing left but a mess of brain, blood and bone where the face of Lord Glover was once. Suddenly a blow to the face came from nowhere.

"You fucking cunt." The young man from before growled. "You'll die for that. Cley Cerwyn will be known as the man that cut down Durran Bara…"

His rant was cut short, as a pike protruded through the Cerwyn's face. The Northerner dropped to the floor with a thud, and holding the pike was none other than Podrick Payne.

"Come, Your Grace." He panted, blood pouring from a cut on his cheek. "We need to go."

Durran nodded. Looking around he saw Ser Barristan helping a wounded Baratheon man up, and Randyll Tarly leaning heavily on Heartsbane. Nodding, he let Pod help him up before he picked up Stormbringer and hobbled off towards the East, looking back once they were far enough away to see the final stages of the battle, a clear loss for his forces.

* * *

Being summoned to Stannis' chambers just as she was getting ready for bed wasn't ideal for Dany, but dutifully she made her way to the Tower of the Hand. She entered Stannis' solar to find Stefan and Stannis sat at his desk.

"Your Grace." Stannis said. "Please." He said, showing her to a chair to the side of Stefan. Dany took a seat.

"Stefan, how are you?" She asked.

"Healing, Your Grace." He smiled. "It's a challenge getting used to everything again, but I'm managing."

The smiths had forged an iron hand for the young man on Durran's orders, and he was sporting it currently. It was a fine piece of work, Dany could admit.

"What was so urgent?" Dany asked.

"This." Stannis said, handing her a raven message. "It came just a few moments before I asked you here."

Dany saw the broken seal of the lamb of Stokeworth. Opening it, she read the message, horrified at its message. "Only a handful survived?" She gasped.

"A cowardly attack." Stefan snarled.

"But a successful one. Robb Stark knew to meet us in the field was foolish and has taken out half of our army in one go." Stannis told them. "We're lucky the King survived."

"What of Uncle Renly?" Stefan asked, eyes widening.

"No word." Dany said, reading the parchment again. "That can't be good, they mention Tarly, Barristan, the Payne boy?"

"We can assume he died in the ambush." Stannis said, gritting his teeth. "I just thought you should know. Lady Tanda is sending them to King's Landing as soon as dawn breaks and I've already sent a hundred men to meet them."

"Very good." Dany sighed. "We shall find out everything on the morrow." Rising, she bid the Baratheon duo good night before returning to her chambers.

Sansa Stark was there to help her get ready for bed, and it took Dany a minute to compose herself in front of the Stark girl.

"Is everything alright, my Queen?" Sansa asked.

Dany snorted quietly. "Alright. No, not really Sansa." She sighed. "You mustn't go wandering now. Stick to your chambers and my own. Do you understand?"

Sansa was concerned. "Has something happened? Did Robb… did my traitor brother do something?"

Dany noticed the slip. "I can't tell you much of anything, you understand that, right?" Sansa nodded. "But yes. A battle of sorts was fought and Robb came out as victor. The King lives though, and I promise you he won't take this well at all."


	15. Tears of the Stag, Blood of the Dragon

Dinner in the Red Keep that night was a nice roasted duck, but Dany couldn't eat a thing. She was sat with Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark who were chatting amicably, and she couldn't pay attention at all.

"Eat, Your Grace. He won't arrive back to King's Landing any sooner by your worrying." Margaery told her kindly. Dany smiled and took a bite but had no more. The other girls were chatting about some Southern hairstyle, when the door barged open and in came a dishevelled Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Ser Barristan." Dany said quickly, rising. "Where is he?"

"This way, Your Grace. He asked for you as soon as we arrived back to the Red Keep." Barristan replied, leading her swiftly down to the Throne Room.

Durran was sat on the Iron Throne, with a pair of Maester's fussing around him seeing to cuts, bruises and everything else. Dany rushed towards him, and knelt before the chair.

"Husband, my King. You are alright?" She asked, tears forming in her eyes.

"Other than my pride." Durran sighed. "Yes, my love, I am well enough. The same cannot be said for much of my forces."

"Justice needs to be dealt." Cersei said from beside him, Dany only just noticing her mother in law. "Stark cannot get away with this."

"And he won't." Durran assured her. "But he has won every battle, I cannot hope to match him in the field, so I won't."

"You won't?" Cersei asked incredulously.

"I shall discuss my plans with the Hand and my council, Mother." Durran said firmly. "For now, I wish to see my wife. Ser Balon."

The Stormlander guard nodded, and escorted a defeated Cersei out of the Throne Room. Durran leant down and kissed Dany softly, before coughing.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Dany asked.

"It's just the smoke that the King ingested." A Maester explained. "I'm giving you a sweet-smelling rag to breathe through as much as possible, it should help clear the lungs."

Dany wasn't convinced, but Durran just nodded. "If that is all Maesters?" He asked. The pair nodded, and left the Throne Room. Durran stood, still weak but as regal as he could muster. "Dany, my sword?" Confused, she saw a squire in Lannister leathers had the blade, and she took it from him to give to her husband. Durran unsheathed Stormbringer, and placed the tip on the stone floor, leaning on the blade. "Podrick Payne, kneel before me." The squire looked confused, but knelt before the Iron Throne. Durran made his way down the steps and stood before Podrick. "You saved my life. You cut down the Cerwyn heir as he was about to strike me down. You risked your life to get me out of Brindlewood, and for that I shall be eternally grateful."

"It… it was my duty, Your Grace." Pod stammered.

"Nonetheless, you risked your life for mine. And it is due to that, I feel honoured in granting you your wish today." Durran told him, bringing up the sword and placing the flat side on Pod's right shoulder. "Podrick, of House Payne. Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Podrick immediately nodded. "I swear it, Your Grace."

Durran smiled, and moved the sword over to his left shoulder, and back again. "Then arise, Ser Podrick of House Payne, a knight of the Seven Kingdom's, and a knight of my own household." The sword was removed, and Durran stepped back, leaning on Dany for support. Pod rose, and his smile was hard to contain.

Ser Barristan and Ser Arys congratulated the boy, as did Dany with a hug and a thank you. Durran was the last to shake Pod's hand.

"I cannot thank you enough, Your Grace. I've always wanted to be a knight." Pod grinned.

"I've heard." Durran nodded. "A sword and a set of armour has been commissioned for you, paid for by me. They should be ready within a week. If you have any family back in Payne Hall then write them, and a small feast shall be arranged."

Pod shifted nervously. "I have no need for a feast, Your Grace. My Father died in the Greyjoy Rebellion and my Mother… she left me to go back to the Vale when I was a babe. I have no-one."

"Not anymore, Ser Podrick." Ser Barristan said. "You have countless fellow knights to call your family."

Durran nodded. "And you are always welcome in the Red Keep."

More congratulations were made before Durran stepped away for some much-needed rest. The resurrection of the war effort would need to begin.

* * *

 _Thud… Thud… Thud…_ That was the noise coming from outside the Small Council chambers. The doors opened, and the last member of the council entered the room. Randyll Tarly had to lean heavily on a cane due to injuries sustained at Brindlewood.

"Lord Tarly, I'm pleased to see you well." Ser Barristan nodded.

"Better than some." Randyll said gruffly. "Have we still had no word?"

"None." Stannis said sharply. "We go on the assumption both Ser Robar and Renly have died."

"Not to forget Daven Lannister." Durran said with gritted teeth. "We've not heard from him either."

"It's a catastrophe." Mace Tyrell exclaimed loudly.

Littlefinger shook his head. "Not quite yet, my Lord Tyrell. We still have King's Landing, and the army of the Reach. We are still active in this war."

"Lord Baelish is correct." Stannis said. "It seems as though Robb Stark has bested us at every turn. He shall no longer be taken lightly."

"He's got a good hold on his army. Murder and rape are much less than anticipated." Varys told them all.

"He's a good man, however misguided his independence attempts are." Durran told them.

"Lead them to the city then." Randyll Tarly said. "Let them siege us, we have enough supplies to last far longer than they ever will, and we have dominance over the seas. The Mallister Fleet is struggling with the Ironborn and any ships they send will have to go past both the Iron Islands and The Arbor. We shall have dominance of the seas and can still supply ourselves."

"Surely the Northerners will know that, and know the siege will be a folly?" Durran asked.

"We have the Stark girl. If there's one thing I know about Ned Stark is that family was the most important thing." Stannis told them. "He will come for her."

"He'll believe he can negate the seas with a quick assault." Tarly said. "Attack the Gate of the Gods and the Lion Gate where the walls are weakest."

"It's what I'd do." Stannis nodded. "Send extra men to each. I want every gate armed with at least 3,000 men, but those with 5,000 each, Lord Tyrell."

"It will be done." Mace nodded.

"The Vale could help." Durran said.

"How? We've had no word." Varys asked.

Durran looked towards Stannis. "You turned down Lord Baelish's proposal because of the need for the city to rebuild and recover, we have done that. We need more men, and the support of the Vale would cut the Northerners off from home. Send Baelish, give him the means to bring the Arryn's back into the fold."

Stannis was unsure. "They got on well, Your Grace, but how can we be sure that Lysa Arryn will agree to this on the word of Lord Baelish, one of her minor Lords?"

"Because I was also a good friend to both her and Lady Catelyn growing up." Baelish explained. "Send me to the Vale and I swear it, I shall bring the Vale to heel."

"How?" Tarly asked, untrustingly.

"Lady Whent has died." Durran explained. "Harrenhal needs a new Lord."

"You can't think to name Baelish to such a prestigious seat?" Tyrell protested. Durran clenched his teeth together.

"I can and I will, Lord Tyrell." Durran told the fat flower. "With Lord Stannis' agreement of course."

Stannis wasn't amused. "Leave us, My Lords. We shall reconvene tomorrow at dawn."

The room quickly thinned out. Stannis turned on Durran. "What in Seven Hells was that?" He asked, angrily.

"A plot." Durran smiled, leaning back. "Baelish is as ambitious as they come. Harrenhal is more a message than a seat. It gives him the power to marry Lysa Arryn and bring the Vale into the fold. It's a win win situation for us."

Stannis wasn't impressed. "Baelish is a snake. You give him this power and he'll go and do whatever he likes with it, not what you think will happen. He will proclaim himself as Lord Protector of the Vale and take control of the entire region!"

"I'm counting on it, Uncle." Durran said calmly. "I have some of my grandfather in me yet."

"Be sure you know what you're doing." Stannis warned. Durran sighed, and leaned forward.

"He will proclaim himself as Lord Protector of the Vale and do one of two things." Durran told his Uncle.

"He'll either do as you ask and bring the forces of the Vale in from the North…" Stannis began.

"Or he shall sit in the Eyrie and plot, yes." Durran said. "One gets him adoration and respect from the rest of the realm and my eternal thanks, the other will likely get him to try and take Winterfell for Sansa."

Stannis looked questioningly. "For Sansa?"

"He looks at her as lustfully as I likely did Dany on my wedding night." Durran laughed. "I'm no fool as to believe he won't try something. Luckily Sansa is almost constantly with the Queen and under guard when she is not. She won't slip away, but I can't promise Baelish won't bide his time and wait for Robb Stark to lose the war."

"Why? Why trust him at all?" Stannis asked.

"I don't trust him, Uncle. I trust his ambition." Durran said. "Even so, bad things happen to the ruling House of Harrenhal, he and any offspring he has will be dead in no time at all."

* * *

If Baelish's departure had been quiet, the return of Renly Baratheon to King's Landing certainly wasn't. The city was in mourning, and Durran had ordered the Royal Court to the Sept of Baelor to pay their respects.

Robar Royce had been killed too but sent back to the Vale, Devan Lannister had been taken prisoner, however. He was too valuable a hostage though, and a minor Lannister, Alton, had been sent and freed by Robb as a gesture of good will with a message. Durran had gone to a side chamber with Stannis and Stefan to read it.

"Daven has been captured, along with numerous other Lannister officials." Durran explained. "He said that he will wait at Sow's Horn for a while, for us to mourn." He scrunched up the paper and through it in the fire. "Kind."

"He gave us back Renly's bones. He didn't have to." Stefan reminded them.

"Yes, Stefan is correct." Stannis said. His eye had darkened, but his levels of reason was as strong as ever. "We have more pressing matters. The Tyrells for instance."

"The Tyrells?" Durran asked.

"They know they're not tied to the crown by blood now. That needs to change." Stannis said. "The widow, Margaery. After mourning, I want to approach Mace Tyrell with an offer to marry her to Stefan here."

"Me? Marry Margaery Tyrell?" Stefan asked. "She won't want me, I'm a cripple."

"You are no such thing." Stannis snapped. "You are the heir to Storm's End. You are Cousin to the King. You. Are. A. Baratheon."

Durran nodded. "Wise words. Yes, approach Lord Tyrell Uncle. For now though, we mourn. I want Uncle Renly interred in Storm's End as soon as possible."

"Your Grace." Stannis nodded. Stefan and Stannis left then, and Durran made his way over to the Seven Pointed Star.

"He's with Loras now. He's happy." Durran whispered to the book. "He died making his love proud."

Making his way back up to the main room of the Sept where Renly was lying in wake, he stood over by a weeping Myrcella and Tommen, wrapping his arms around the both of them. They watched on as Stannis was standing over the body of his Brother, whispering something inaudible. Finally, he bent down and placed a kiss on Renly's forehead, walking out of the Sept.

* * *

Meanwhile over at the Dragonpit, Dany was watching the skies again as her dragons roamed free. Melisandre was watching the Queen however, her eyes unblinking.

"They grow because of your love, Your Grace." She said. Dany scoffed, not believing it.

"They grow because I don't chain them." Dany corrected. "They've grown so fast."

"It is the will of R'hllor that they do. They are needed." Melisandre told her, walking up to stand side by side with the Queen.

"For what?" Dany sighed.

"For the war." Melisandre told her. "The dragons are no mere house pets like the Prince's kittens, they are fire made flesh. They are R'hllor's children." Nodding, Dany stared upwards again. Rhaellar came down to meet her, landing in front of Dany and laying down, her head close enough for Dany to stroke. Melisandre continued. "Now that three has become two, you shall need them."

Dany's eyes snapped towards the Red Woman. "What did you say?"

" _I see a wolf pounce, a fish and a stag dancing, I see three become two and I see a tower draped in white_." Melisandre said, repeating her prophecies from weeks ago. "The wolf has pounced and bitten the Stag, and Renly Baratheon is dead, leaving only King Durran and Stannis Baratheon left to fight this war."

"Three becomes two." Dany whispered. "What about the rest? The Tower, and the dancing?"

"They will come to pass." Melisandre said.

"What do they mean though?" Dany asked urgently.

Melisandre just grinned. "That is not for me to say, I only relay the Lord of Light's messages, I cannot truly interpret them until they come to pass." She took Dany's hands and looked deeply into her eyes. "You must take a hold of your own destiny, Your Grace. Become one with your ancestors.  **Fly, soar above and bring fire to your enemies.** " She said, finishing in Valyrian.

" **Durran won't allow it.** " Dany whispered.

" **He may be a King, but you, Your Grace. You are his Queen.** "

* * *

They had sent Renly's body back to Storm's End almost immediately to be buried next to King Robert. Durran himself was ready to just sleep.

He entered his chambers and smiled at the sleeping form of Dany in their bed. He quickly got undressed and quietly tried to join her, but he must have woken her up, as she curled into him.

"Mmm." She mumbled. "I'm sorry about Renly. He was a good man."

Durran nodded and kissed the top of her head. "He's in a better place now. He's with Loras."

Dany opened her eyes questioningly, but closed them again after Durran gave no intention of explaining. "What are we going to do now?"

"I'm not sure." Durran sighed. "The Reach can still form a large host, but it won't be ready in time. We'll have to hole up in King's Landing for now, bring Robb here to siege us and hit him with the extra Reachmen."

"Or you could send me and the dragons." Dany muttered sleepily.

Durran looked at her, questioningly. "What?"

The Queen sat herself upright and rubbed her eyes. "I rode Rhaellar today. I can ride her and control the others. Somehow Melisandre's magic has helped bind them to me, they can hear me from enough distance. I can fly Northwards and they won't suspect a thing."

"No." Durran said firmly.

"Durran." Dany said quickly. "It's the perfect way to dent their forces without them knowing. We're losing the war, let me help."

"No." Durran repeated. "I won't lose you in such a way.

"I'll be with the dragons." Dany scoffed amusedly.

"All it takes." Durran began. "Is one arrow to strike you here." He said, poking her where her heart was. "And I'd be lost."

"I have armour." Dany shrugged. A set had been made after Durran had found out about the dragons.

"I said no!" Durran exclaimed, raising his voice. He got out of bed and made his way to the balcony, staring out over the city.

"Durran." Dany said, no warmth in her voice. He ignored her and continued staring. "You will look at me this instant!" The sharp tone of her voice made Durran turn. She was sat upright, her lilac eyes blazing in rage. "I am blood of the dragon. My ancestors before me fought their wars. When I married you, we agreed that the both of us would rule. Together."

"And we are." Durran told her. "You did an exceptional job while I was away and we shall continue to do so."

"This is my war as much as yours!" Dany shouted. "We have the means to cripple the Northern Army without them seeing us coming, why won't you utilise that!"

"Because that could mean I lose you! I'm not prepared to risk you!" Durran roared back. "No, I will not allow it."

Dany sighed, got out of bed and walked towards him. He towered over her, but at that moment she held all the power. "I love you, I do I love you to the Seven Hells and back." She said. "But never, never presume to forbid me from anything. I am not a slave, I am not a simple wife. I am a Queen. I have the blood of the dragon. Fire runs through my veins."

"One arrow." Durran said weakly. "One arrow and I lose you, forever. They have grown exceptionally fast, but they're not big enough yet to take out an army."

"Very well." Dany told him. "I shan't take out an army."

Durran sighed in relief, and gripped her in a tight hug. "I just worry. I promise I will not forbid you, but please trust me on matters such as this."

Dany nodded, and took his hand to lead him back to bed. They held each other closely, until Durran fell asleep, his head buried in her bosom.

He woke the next morning having slept as good as he had in a very long time, only to find the room empty.

* * *

The War of the Four Kings had been disastrous for Jaime Lannister. After the Stark boy had tricked him in the Whispering Wood, he had been dragged from camp to camp, towards the West and back towards the East, always with the main Stark host. He had escaped once but his freedom hadn't lasted long.

News barely trickled to him. He had heard of the downfall of Joffrey but felt no true grief for the boy, not like he did for Tyrion. Joffrey may have been Jaime's seed, but never his son. Thinking of Joffrey made him ache for Cersei. He needed to hold her, to kiss her and love her again, although he needed to wash himself free of his own shit first.

He recognised the 8-foot walled towerhouse of Sow's Horn in the distance, barely visible however due to fog. Stark had felt it necessary to keep him on the edge of the camp, so during sunlight he had a good view of the almost 40,000 strong host surrounding the former seat of House Hogg. Ser Roger had been away with Joffrey's host, and Robb Stark took the castle with little bloodshed.

The latest news to reach his ears came from Robb Stark himself. The King in the North had stridden down to his makeshift cell with his pet beast and sat himself down on a stool, just out of reach for Jaime to be able choke the life out of him, if his hands had been untied.

"The King in the North returns! Licking your wounds? I thought you'd have me moved further South but instead I find your army marching back North." Jaime taunted.

"Your arrogance blinds you, Kingslayer." Stark grinned. "We won the battle, but there is no castle between here and Hayford, so we will wait here and see what Durran Baratheon's next move is."

"Of course, he still has the might of the Reach." Jaime grinned. "You should just bend the knee to my nephew, your icy joints may protest but you'll save lives that way."

Robb sighed, standing and looking out towards his camp. "I was chosen by the North to rule them, and until they say otherwise that is what I shall do." He said.

"You don't sound so happy at that." Jaime noticed. Stark just turned and stared at him coldly.

"You don't tell me how I sound, Kingslayer." He snarled. "I just came to tell you that we could find no trace of Durran."

Jaime just nodded. "What of my family?"

"Safe, as far as I know." Robb told him. "Renly Baratheon is dead, killed by Lord Umber."

"Renly was a fool." Jaime snorted. "All pampered and Lordly when all his gold came from Stannis."

"He died bravely. He slew five of my men before the Greatjon took him down." Robb said sharply. "Speaking ill of the dead does not become you."

"What do they care, they're dead." Jaime said coldly. The loss of Tyrion still hurt him.

"Even so." Robb said. He looked distastefully at Jaime before standing and walking out of the cell. "Throw him in a bath somewhere." Robb told a guard.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And make sure that he…" Rob began, before a horrifying screech stopped him in his tracks.

Jaime was immediately alarmed. His eyes darted around to find the source of the noise when suddenly, fire filled the air.

The fog began to burn off as tents and men began to erupt into flames. Jaime tried to break his chains, but it was to no use. He looked in the air to find the impossible. Two dragons, black and green, were zooming over the camp, roaring fire onto the unsuspecting Northmen as they went. Robb Stark swore, and began to stride towards the camp when Jaime shouted out at him.

"If I die, what happens to your sister?!" He called, fear in his voice. Robb looked at the Lannister briefly, before nodding at the guard who came and unshackled him.

"If you try anything, I'll kill you myself." Robb warned. Jaime nodded, and followed the Stark.

Men were rushing around. The armoury had been one of the first to go up in flames so many of the archers were without weapons to take out the dragons. Pikes were being thrown, but they were too fast and their hides too strong. Jaime looked up to see them take another pass at the towerhouse, and the windows exploded.

"How the fuck are there dragons?" Robb cursed. "Fucking dragons!" They carried on trying to get men to safety, with Jaime doing his best to help even though the men treated him like vermin. One man was on fire, and Jaime helped put him out only for it to be too late, and the Northman wasn't breathing.

He looked up and saw a third dragon, hovering up in the distance. It wasn't the biggest of the three, but it was certainly the most regal. Squinting, he was sure he saw a woman on its back, a woman with silver blonde hair.

"The Targaryen?" He whispered, when suddenly a jet of flames shot over his head and onto the nearest tent. He jumped out the way of the flames, rolling on the floor in the process when he looked back, and saw Robb had caught fire.

Swearing, he jumped to his feet and barged who he presumed was Lord Umber's son out the way. Robb was howling on the ground, flames engulfing part of his face. Jaime grabbed a cloak that had been on the ground and basically smothered Robb, rolling him around on the blackening grass over and over until the flames died. Sighing in relief after checking that Robb Stark was still breathing, he looked up to see the dragons retreating southwards.

"Why?" The Smalljon's voice came from beside Jaime. "Why would you help him?"

"If he dies, I die." Jaime said bitterly, knowing it to be true. Karstark still wanted him dead, as did most of the camp. It was only Robb Starks orders that kept him alive and he knew it. "Come on, help me get him to a medic."

The King in the North was unconscious, burns having singed his hair and most of his right cheek, but for the most part he was ok, his blackened clothing taking most of the damage. Jaime grabbed the Stark King under the shoulders, and waited for the Smalljon to grab the King's legs before they hauled him in the direction of the castle.


	16. Winter's Fury

The castle had been searched, and neither Dany, nor the three Dragons, could be found anywhere. Durran was raging, and had sent men Northwards to see if there was any sign of the Queen. Until he heard back from them, there wasn't a lot he could do.

After agreeing terms with Mace Tyrell for the marriage of Stefan and Margaery, Durran went and got his hair shaved. He had let it grow too long and unkempt, so asked his Mother to help him shave it. She carefully dragged the knife through his hair, making sure it was even and short before letting him view it.

"You look different. Older." She said.

"I'm a King, I need to look older." Durran told her. "Thank you."

"Any time I get to spend with my children is a happy time." Cersei smiled. "I don't see you enough."

"I've been fighting a war, remember?" Durran chuckled. "I'll give you some more freedom though. The Red Keep is yours to roam but no further."

Cersei smiled, and Durran realised he had forgotten how lovely she looked while smiling. They chatted amicably some more before a knock on the door came.

"Enter." Durran called. In came Ser Balon.

"Sorry, Your Grace, but the Queen has been sighted flying for the city." The Kingsguard said.

Durran sighed in relief. "Thank the Gods she's safe." He breathed.

"Remember she disobeyed you." Cersei reminded. "You need to be strong with her."

"I shall be strong as I see fit." Durran told her. "Come, gather Myrcella and Tommen. We shall all greet the Queen in the Throne Room."

* * *

He sat on the Iron Throne, with Stannis stood to his right and his family up in the Gallery watching down. The doors opened, and Dany was being escorted in. Durran was so pleased to see her unhurt, and looking down at her in full armour almost caused a reaction in his trousers, but his face remained stoic. Dany stopped before the steps and got to both knees elegantly.

"My King." She said.

"My Queen." Durran said shortly. "It seems you've caused quite a stir in the city. We've had search parties out."

"I apologise for wasting their times, but I wasn't in the city." Dany said, standing, and looking up at Durran, her lilac eyes blazing.

Durran was also feeling his anger rise. "Then where, pray tell, where you?"

Dany took a deep breath. "At Sow's Horn, Your Grace. Burning half of Robb Stark's army to cinders with my Dragons."

"Against the King's wishes." Cersei's accusing voice came from the gallery.

"Silence!" Durran shouted, turning to his Mother. "One more word and you'll be escorted back to your chambers." Cersei nodded, and Durran turned back to Dany. "My Mother is correct though, I specifically asked you not to go."

"And I asked you to never forbid me again." Dany said. "I understand your fears but I'm unharmed, and Robb Stark has significantly less forces than he did two days ago."

"We could have waited for them to come here, Your Grace." Stannis said. "Why risk your life?"

Dany scoffed. "Because this is my war too and I have the means to see an end to it quickly Lord Stannis. And it worked, Robb Starks camp is burned or burning, he has less men and they know they can't face us with Dragons."

"Leave us." Durran said to everybody. Stannis nodded and left for the Small Council chamber immediately, while Cersei stayed for a second or two longer than she should have before escorting Durran's family out. Soon it was just Durran and Dany in the Throne Room. "We could have waited, waited to reveal our weapon, waited to train you with the Dragons."

"There was no time." Dany said softly, walking up the stairs to stand over Durran on the Throne. She reached down and stroked his cheek. "We were losing, now we have the upper hand."

Durran grabbed her waist softly and pulled her down onto his lap before leaning in for a kiss. They stayed like that for minutes, locked in a gentle embrace before parting. "I won't forbid it. Varys will have reports of the true damage you handed the Northmen but from now on I'd like you to promise me that you'll coordinate with me. If we are to rule, we must do it together. If we are to fight we must do it as one."

Dany smiled, and kissed Durran once more. "Always, my love." She grinned. Durran got her to stand, before he joined her and led her away through the castle at pace. Giggling, Dany asked. "Where are we going?"

"To our chambers." Durran grinned. "So I can congratulate you properly on your victory."

* * *

"We need to fight on! They have thrice the number of losses we have!" Lord Karstark was shouting. "I say we take King's Landing on quickly, they won't risk burning their own city, not again!"

"Did you not see the Dragons, Lord Karstark?" Ser Wendel Manderly cried. "Three of them! Fully grown!"

"I saw them aye, but the Targaryen bitch has played her trick now, we should press on Your Grace. Get vengeance for all our fallen brothers and sons!" Karstark appealed.

"So we all die? That's your plan?" Gregor Forrester asked. "Forgive me, Lord Karstark but we are totally outmatched. The armies we can take on and maybe stand a chance, but Dragons?"

"They can die! Enough arrows in the right places and they'll drop like my shits every morning." Lord Umber grinned.

"We could have 100,000 archers and I wouldn't be confident in taking all three of them down." Lord Bolton said. He turned to Robb. "Sue for peace, Your Grace. We've proven ourselves here, the entire realm will know that the North is not to be taken lightly."

"Craven!" Umber roared. "You'd have us bend over Bolton? Have you lost faith in our cause?"

"What cause?" Bolton chuckled ominously. "We marched to free Lord Eddard. He lost his head. Then we crowned King Robb to gain independence when there were 4 kings in the realm. Now Joffrey is dead and the might of the South is behind Durran Baratheon. I say you ask for peace. Bend the knee and then we rid the real problem, or have you all forgotten the Ironborn are in the North as we speak?"

The room was filled with quiet murmuring as the Ironborn problem was remembered.

"The new Lord Glover's family have been taken hostage in their own castle. We owe it to Lord Robett to free them." Forrester said. "He is my Liege Lord, it is my duty."

"Winterfell has also been taken. My brothers killed by a man I called brother. I promise you I will never forget the Ironborn." Robb told them all angrily.

"Then ask King Durran for his support." Roose Bolton offered. "We can't hold independence My Lords. I'm as angry at the Lannisters as the rest of you, but the Lannisters have no power anymore. Their Lord is a Baratheon boy dressed as a lion. Their armies have been annihilated by us. We've done what we set out to do."

"Aye." About a third of the room said.

"We should not go meekly back with our tails between our legs." Lord Umber told the room. "This war is still winnable."

"I want justice for my sons." Karstark spat. "I'll agree to your craven wishes Lord Bolton if it brings me Jaime Lannister's head. Nothing else."

The reminder of Lannister made Robb's face ache. His right cheek would forever be scarred with burn marks, and burns on his torso made it hard for him to move with as much agility as he could beforehand. Those would heal soon enough however. The room began arguing once more, and Robb let it go for a bit before he looked over at his Mother, who nodded at him. Knowing what to do, he stood up painfully, and the room fell silent.

"I have no wish to be craven. I have no wish to run with my tail between my legs." He said strongly, looking towards the smiling Umber and Karstark Lords. "But we won't do that, will we? We've won every battle! Decimated armies! Lannister men will fear us for generations!" The cheers accompanying his words were almost deafening. "Lord Umber spoke many words at my coronation, but some stick out more than others for me. ' _lt was the dragons we bowed to and now the dragons are dead!_ ' Well not anymore." The room fell silent as Robb pointed to his scarred face. "The Dragons are back, and they aren't on our side. We fought valiantly and I promise I won't let anybody in Westeros forget that! But Durran Baratheon isn't our true enemy. Our true enemy lie to the West, to the Iron Isles. I say we ask Baratheon for a peace, a fair peace that reflects our victories in battle, and then we ride North, we ride to Moat Cailin, and Winterfell, and the Stony Shore and Deepwood Motte. I say we kill every Ironborn fucker in the North, and then we bring down Pyke!"

The cheers roared out, even Lord Umber was among them. "Stark! Stark! Stark!"

Robb turned back to his Mother, who nodded and walked up to him as the cheering carried on. "Have I done the right thing?"

"Sansa will be back soon enough." Catelyn said. "The true problem is in the North, Robb. This is but a distraction, a costly distraction."

"Very well." Robb nodded. "Send for Uncle Edmure, I want him there too. I'll send the raven immediately."

* * *

The raven from Robb had come as a surprise, but it was a couple of days later that Durran decided to accept it. Varys' reports of the damage Dany had caused had proven that while it was a large dent in Robb Starks army, it wasn't big enough to be able to crush him outright. His council had advised, and Stannis agreed that they should meet, so long as the end result was Robb Stark bending the knee. A raven had been sent back to the Stark host, detailing him to be at Hayford Castle in a weeks' time with no more than 5,000 men.

The castle had a stream running by it, so Durran took his host of 5,000 men and camped them at the castle side of it, while letting the Northman come in and camp on the other side. As the Northmen poured in, all the men were kept on alert, and Durran was relieved that Robb was keeping the truce so far.

He stood halfway over the bridge that went over the stream and led into the castle, with Stannis to his side and Ser Barristan, Ser Balon and Ser Arys behind him. Sansa was also on the bridge, being guarded by a newly armoured Podrick Payne.

Robb Stark looked regal as he walked over the bridge with his direwolf and his small group. Durran recognised the banners of House Bolton, Umber and Karstark stood just behind him. He saw his Uncle too, being dragged by another tall man with the Umber sigil on his cloak. Robb and Durran moved forwards, so they were stood closely, face to face.

"Robb Stark." Durran said.

"Durran Baratheon." Robb countered. Grey Wind took that moment to start growling, although Durran took no notice. He just looked to the sky, where he saw that Dany was circling the air with her Dragons as instructed. Robb also noticed this, and stroked his wolf to calm him down.

"Thank you for coming." Durran said. "Our war has gone on long enough."

"Some of my men believe it hasn't gone on long enough." Robb countered again. "I won't be brought to peace meekly, Durran. I have terms."

"As do I." Durran said. "First though, boats with bread and salt have been sent for all of your men, and I expect them all to honour that." He nodded to the stream, and as he said, boats were being pushed to the other side.

"Guest right is welcome." Robb said, relaxing slightly. His eyes drifted to Sansa, and Durran noticed it.

"I see you've brought my Uncle. Shall we have, say, a few minutes with the other's hostages? Under guard of course." Durran offered, gesturing for Podrick to bring Sansa forward. Robb reciprocated, and the Umber man brought Jaime forward too. Durran watched as Sansa and Robb embraced tightly, and began speaking in hushed terms.

Durran made his way towards Jaime, and gave him a brief hug. "Nephew." Jaime smiled.

"Uncle. How have they been treating you?" Durran asked.

"Not as well as I'd like, but better the last couple of weeks." Jaime shrugged. "I saved the Stark boy's life in your Dragon attack."

"Aye I noticed his scars." Durran sighed. "Thank the Seven he's not more hurt."

"Yes, I'm lucky in that regard too. I was sorry to hear of your Uncle, and your Brother." Jaime said.

"I cannot mourn Joffrey, he caused all of this with his idiocy." Durran said sharply. "I still mourn Renly though, I'm just glad that we shall have you back soon. I know Mother has missed you terribly."

Jaime smiled at that. "I've missed her too. And Tyrion… what happened?"

Durran frowned. "The walls collapsed, he was in the wrong place. We've recovered the body and sent it to Casterly Rock. However briefly, he was Lord of the Rock and will be buried as such."

Jaime smiled sadly. "Thank you for that."

Durran nodded. Enough time had passed so he nodded to Podrick who brought Sansa away from Robb, and Jaime was pulled back towards the Northern camp. Durran pulled Pod to one side, letting another knight lead Sansa to her chambers inside Hayford Castle. "What was said?"

"Not a lot, just asking how she had been treated and talking about their family. Arya Stark is back at Sow's Horn." Pod explained.

"Really? Good." Durran nodded. "At least she's safe." He turned around and nodded back at Robb, who nodded back.

"We meet at high noon." Robb said. Durran nodded.

"I'll prepare the Hall in the castle appropriately." Durran told him. With that Robb and his host turned back to their camp, while Durran and his went inside the castle, readying themselves for the next day of peace talks.

* * *

The Hall in Hayford Castle was tense. On one side, sat Durran and some of his major Lords, with Stannis, Lord Tyrell and Lord Tarly among them. On the other, sat Robb Stark and his major Lords. Lord Tully, Umber, Karstark and Bolton were the ones Durran knew by name. Podrick Payne was sat separately, documenting everything.

Durran began. "I want to thank you all for coming, My Lords. Both sides have committed atrocities in this war, and the sooner it ends the sooner we can go about cementing peace in Westeros. I want to start by saying there can be no independence and both yourself and Lord Edmure must bend the knee. You cannot hope to stay independent and you cannot possibly live without the Reach's food supplies. To that end, I propose a match between the heir to the Reach Willas Tyrell and Sansa Stark."

The Northerners didn't look overly happy. "Sansa has been your hostage for two years, and now you want us to send her away again?" Robb asked, annoyed.

"There is no rush." Durran said. "I understand Sansa misses her home and her family. I propose a betrothal. They can wed in a few years if necessary, but a match between the North and the Reach helps tie the Kingdom's together, and gives you a healthy link with the Reach for future food supplies for the coming winter."

Robb thought about it, and leaned in to Lord Umber to whisper something. He turned back after a moment and said. "Two years. Sansa will remain in the North for two years and then she can wed your Tyrell heir."

Durran nodded, but looked at Mace Tyrell for confirmation, and the fat flower looked beaming. "Very well. Now, what do you want from me?"

"Recompense for the Riverlands." Robb said straight away. "The Lannisters burned, raped and raided much of my Uncle's lands. We want food to be brought in for all the holdfasts and we want coin to pay for the damages."

Durran nodded. "A fair request. Lord Tyrell, can you afford to feed the Southern Riverlands?"

Tyrell nodded. "I should think so, Your Grace."

"Then the food shall start being imported as soon as terms are signed." Durran said. "As for coin…"

"2 million dragons." Edmure stated. "The damage is extensive."

"2 million is too steep." Stannis said. "We have areas in need of repairs too. 1 million is as much as we can do, but we'd expect something in return."

"How about a marriage." Robb asked. "My Uncle Edmure is unwed."

"As is my daughter." Stannis said. "A Lady of the Stormlands is a suitable match for the Lord of the Trident."

Durran nodded. "If you agree, Lord Edmure, then you shall wed Lady Shireen when she turns 16." Edmure looked uncertain, and Durran knew why. Refusing to let it anger him he continued. "I can assure you there is no smarter, kinder Baratheon in the world. She will make you a fine wife."

Robb looked pointedly at Edmure, and whispered in his ear. Edmure shrugged in acceptance.

"I'll marry Lady Shireen, but I'd like to meet with her before we wed. If Lord Baratheon would accept, she can even foster at Riverrun, to better know the lands she will be living in." He offered.

Stannis had a think, and nodded. "When Shireen is 14 she will foster at Riverrun with a couple of other Stormlander girls to be decided later."

"Agreed." Edmure nodded. Durran was grateful this was going places.

"All of the bones and belongings of the Northman in your Father's retinue are still in the Red Keep. They shall be sent Northwards." Durran said. "One thing, however, I brought with me."

He nodded to Ser Barristan, who walked out of the room and came back in with a large Greatsword in a wolf pelt. Ser Barristan placed it on the table by Durran.

"Ice." Robb gasped.

"You shall have it back after you've signed." Durran said sternly.

Robb went next. "My advisors think it wise to ensure that no retrospective action can be taken upon us. So we want a marriage with the royal family. My first son and your first daughter."

Durran sucked in a breath. "You want hypothetical children as part of a peace treaty."

"Yes." Robb said. "Two centuries ago almost we were promised a Targaryen princess would wed a Stark. I would have that fulfilled." Durran thought about it. A match with the North would be useful, but he had planned on waiting to let his children have a say. Robb continued however. "If I'm to bend the knee, I want it on paper that we will unite our houses one day."

Durran turned to Stannis, who just nodded. "Very well." He said. "Podrick, write it down. Now, I want you to recommend me a Kingsguard member from the Riverlands."

Robb looked towards Edmure and spoke in hushed tones. They spoke back and forth for a while before Robb spoke back to Durran. "My future brother-by-law. Ser Perwyn Frey. He is a good man, and a fine knight."

Nodding, Durran said. "Send him to Ser Barristan after we have signed and we shall evaluate him. For now, Podrick, write that a member of the Kingsguard will be chosen by Lord Stark."

There were grumbles from the Northmen at the lack of Kingly title, but Robb wasn't fussed. "Other than all hostages to be returned without need of recompense, all I would ask for is your help in destroying the Ironborn."

Durran nodded, and got Podrick to write about the hostages. He looked to Lord Tarly to answer the other point. Lord Tarly said briskly. "We can spare the Redwyne and the Royal fleet to help you ferry your men, and we will provide 5,000 men. Is that enough?"

Robb nodded. "More than enough. If all my Lords accept?"

There were a few mumbles, but all of the Northern Lords agreed to the terms. Durran turned behind him and most of his Lords nodded too. Stannis leaned in to Durran however. "They're getting off fairly lightly." He whispered.

Durran whispered back. "He's lost his Father, and Brothers, he's lost his Grandfather too. I respect Robb Stark, if it were anyone else I'd be firmer but he's lost enough." Stannis nodded, but his lips remained tight. Durran stood up and poured two glasses of wine. He walked and handed one over to Robb. "With this, I hereby signal the end of the war between the North and the Crown!" He exclaimed. The pair clinked glasses and both took a swig, with many of the men in the room cheering.

* * *

The next morning, both Durran and Robb were stood before a table with the finished Treaty of Hayford. Stannis Baratheon read out the terms.

"With this treaty, betrothals have been announced between Lord Willas Tyrell of the Reach, and Lady Sansa Stark of the North. Lord Edmure Tully of the Trident, and Lady Shireen Baratheon of the Stormlands. The future daughter of King Durran Baratheon will marry the future heir to Winterfell. The Greatsword Ice and all the bodies of Northmen slain in King's Landing shall be returned to their homes. The Reach shall supply the Southern Riverlands with food to get through the coming winter, and the Westerlands shall pay 1 million gold dragons in recompense for the crimes of Lord Tywin Lannister. King Durran Baratheon will supply ships and men to aid Lord Robb Stark in his war against the traitor Balon Greyjoy. Ser Perwyn Frey will be admitted to the Kingsguard. Lord Robb Stark and Lord Edmure Tully shall bend the knee, and the North and Riverlands will re-join the Seven Kingdoms." Stannis called out.

Durran nodded. He walked over and signed the treaty, scribbling his name as neatly as he could. Robb soon followed in suit, scribbling his name next to Durran's. All the Lords of the Riverlands and the North that were there, or the chosen representatives of the Lords followed, until the bottom of the parchment was filled with signatures. When Stannis was happy, he rolled the parchment up and handed it to Podrick to keep safe. Durran stood regally in front of the Northmen.

"With peace agreed, I ask you all to bend the knee and reaffirm the pledges you made to my Father." He called. One by one, Northmen and Rivermen alike bent down on one knee and spoke their vows. Durran only had eyes for Robb however. When they finished the vows, Durran bid them to stand.

"Welcome back into the fold." He said to them all, feeling all stress lift from him for the first time in years.

* * *

That night, a feast was held to rival all feasts. Drinks were flowing, and men were laughing together when weeks before they were trying to kill one another. Durran sat in Lord Hayford's chair with Dany to his side and just looked around. He saw Sansa finally smiling of her own accord when talking to her Mother and Sister. He saw Robb looking happy speaking with Lord Umber. He also saw Jaime Lannister laughing with Ser Arys.

The main thing that caught his attention however was Ser Barristan staring intently at Arya Stark.

"Ser Barristan!" He called amusedly. "Have a drink, leave the poor Stark girl alone!"

"Durran!" Dany laughed, feeling tipsy from the wine. "Leave the brave knight be."

"I wasn't looking at the Stark girls, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said amusedly. "Rather the boy talking to Lady Arya."

"Who?" Durran asked. Ser Barristan pointed him out, and Dany gasped.

"There's two of you? Seven Hells…" She groaned. Durran burst out laughing.

"One of me is enough, My Queen." Durran grinned. He stood up and made his way over to the Stark sisters.

"Lady Sansa, I hope you're truly feeling happy this time." Durran said.

"I am, Your Grace, thank you." Sansa smiled.

"I can assure you the Queen will miss you, nobody else does her hair quite so well." Durran laughed. Sansa blushed, and Durran moved along. "Lady Catelyn, I'm very sorry about your loss. Rest assured, Joffrey is in the deepest of the Seven Hells."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Catelyn forced. Durran could tell she still wasn't comfortable with his family so he moved along again. "Lady Arya, how good to see you alive. You worried me for the longest time."

"I had help." She shrugged. "Gendry helped mostly." She pointed to the spitting image of Durran, but a little older.

"Gendry?" Durran asked.

"Me, Your Grace." The boy said.

"You look alike!" Arya cried.

"Arya!" Cat scolded.

"No, it's ok Lady Catelyn." Durran said. "We do. Who were your parents Gendry?"

"People die if they ask about my Parents, Your Grace." Gendry said solemnly. "The two Hands died."

"Lord Arryn and Lord Stark?" Durran guessed. "Then you're the bastard…"

"He's not a bastard!" Arya claimed angrily. She was scolded again.

"I didn't mean it badly." Durran said, holding his hands up. "I just meant Gendry here is the reason I'm King now and not Joffrey. Your Father found out who he really is."

"Who am I?" Gendry asked, angrily. "Don't I deserve to know?"

"Of course you do." Durran nodded. "Gendry, you're my half-brother. Your Father was King Robert Baratheon."

Gendry was shocked. His mouth gaped open, and he quickly fled the room. Durran turned to the Starks. "Please excuse me, I must go and speak to him."

Durran chased Gendry out of the castle. It was pouring down with rain and he was soon soaked through. He saw Gendry leant on the wall, panting heavily in anger.

"Gendry!" Durran called.

"All my life he was right there! I was in Fleabottom, why didn't he come and see me?" Gendry cried.

"He likely didn't know. I'm so sorry!" Durran said loudly over the rain, laying a hand on Gendry's shoulder. "I didn't know. If I did I would have come and found you sooner!"

"I'm a blacksmith! That's all. I can't be some King's son." Gendry cried out, tears rolling down his face as well as the rain.

"You can!" Durran called. "You come back to King's Landing with me, you get to know me and my siblings! I'll make sure you lead a full, and happy life! I'll get you a knighthood, and a keep, and everything you could ever want! You're my Brother I see that!"

"I don't deserve it." Gendry said angrily, shaking Durran off. Durran wasn't to be deterred though, and pushed back.

"You saved Arya Stark's life! The North owe you a debt! I owe you a debt! If she had died then this peace likely would never happen!" Durran shouted. "Come back to the capital with me, please!"

Gendry looked at Durran, anger turning to hurt. "Why didn't he know?" He asked weakly before collapsing to the ground. Durran sat down beside him, and the pair stayed sat down in the rain for what seemed like ages, just sitting together.

* * *

The next morning, the camps were packed up and Durran was sat on his horse waiting to leave. Gendry had decided to come with the King, and was saying his final goodbyes to Arya. Robb Stark came over to Durran.

"The ships will be sent up as soon as I am back in King's Landing. I'll send them to Seagard." Durran said.

"Thank you." Robb nodded. "And Thank you for looking after Sansa."

"She's an innocent." Durran said. "Joffrey made her suffer enough."

"Curse him." Robb said, spitting on the ground. Durran nodded, and held out his hand.

"Enjoy your wedding." Durran grinned, and Robb groaned.

"I'll have to get married when I get to the Twins." He told himself.

"Do you know who you'll pick?" Durran teased. Robb chuckled.

"I'm not sure. I've heard good things about a Roslin though…" He trailed off. "Anyway, I'll speak to Olyvar about it."

"Pick a good one. If my daughter is to marry your son he better be better looking than you." Durran grinned. Robb barked out a laugh and nodded.

"Until the next time, Your Grace." Robb said.

"Give the Ironborn hell." Durran said, and Robb nodded before turning back to his camp.

Gendry was done, and had gotten on his horse by the time Robb was gone. Making sure everyone was ready, Durran turned his horse Southwards, leading his retinue back towards King's Landing to enjoy the newfound peace.


	17. After the Storm

As they entered King's Landing, the Royal party split almost immediately to see to their many duties. The Maesters went to see to Daven Lannister, who was looking worse for wear, and Stannis immediately headed to the Tower of the Hand to see to anything that had escaped his attention over the last few days. Dany went to see that her Dragons were comfortable in the Dragonpit with Ser Arys.

Durran meanwhile, with the remaining members of the Kingsguard, took Jaime straight to the Throne Room. The Lannister looked around.

"It's changed." He noted.

"Joffrey." Durran told him. "I'll redecorate, I just need to figure out what I want."

"Some Stag heads, maybe?" Jaime offered. He began walking around, refamiliarizing himself with the room. Durran watched him for a moment, before nodding to all the Kingsguard but Ser Barristan to leave, and when they had Durran began saying what he'd wanted to for months.

"I know. About you and Mother."

Jaime's head snapped around. "You know what?" He asked, his grin not meeting his eyes.

"Everything." Durran told him. His eyes steely. "I know about everything."

Jaime's smile dropped. "Whatever you think you know…"

"Don't!" Durran roared. "Don't try and worm out of this Uncle. I know you gave her three children. I know you've been sleeping with her ever since she married my Father!"

"Durran… let me explain." Jaime begged.

"There's no need Ser." Durran said. "You have two options before you. Rejoin the Kingsguard, become the Knight of the West in service to me but never will you be alone with my Mother again. Or you can be released from your vows, take Tommen and go back to Casterly Rock. Help him become the ruler he needs to be, and never see my Mother again."

Jaime looked shocked at his nephew. He opened his mouth a few times before closing it again. "I see." He said finally.

Durran walked up the steps and sat down in his Throne. "By rights I should kill you, you committed treason for over a decade." He looked down at Jaime with a glare, before softening. "But I've lost too many family members. The realm has no idea, they think I took the Throne as Joffrey was unfit, not that he had no right to it. Your secret is safe but it stays in the past."

Jaime nodded. "I know it seems wrong to the outside, Your Grace. But to us…"

"Mother explained it all." Durran said. "The King has spoken his peace, now let the nephew and son. Mother has been miserable ever since you left. I've noticed that. You make her happy and it is my hope that just your presence can achieve similar. You'll never be alone with her but she deserves her brother. Nothing more. Your Nephew's recommendation is that you take up the white cloak again."

Jaime nodded, and bent down on one knee. "I can't begin to imagine the contempt you have for me, King Robert was never kind to your Mother, but he was the King. I'll be better, I'll do better Your Grace. I've served two Kings, the Mad King and King Robert. Neither were good Kings. Let me serve you, for finally I see a King I feel can be worth serving."

Durran bid him to rise, and nodded to Ser Barristan. The elderly knight reached behind the Throne and pulled out black Kingsguard armour detailed with crimson, and a brand new white cloak. "Ser Jaime. I welcome you back to the Kingsguard." He said, though it sounded forced.

"Thank you, Ser Barristan." Jaime said.

"Go and put your new armour on, Ser Jaime." Durran said. "And welcome back."

* * *

Ser Jaime wasn't the only addition to Durran's Kingsguard that day. After Jaime had been resettled, Durran made his way to the White Sword Tower and watched on as Ser Barristan initiated both Ser Perwyn Frey and Podrick Payne into the order. With the death of Ser Robar, Durran had decided that Podrick's service to him had been exemplar, and his Mother being from the Vale was enough for Durran to grant him the place of the Kingsguard for the Vale.

The only other issue was with the Small Council. With Renly dead and Baelish in the Vale, the positions of Masters of Coin and Laws needed to be filled, and Durran soon found himself sat with Stannis in the Tower of the Hand pouring over the options.

"We aren't at war now, how about Lord Randyll?" Durran asked about the Master of Laws.

Stannis shook his head. "No, I will keep that position open and have him work with the Gold Cloaks for now training them. Soon they'll be the finest fighting force in the realm. Ideally, I'd like someone from the Riverlands or the North, but the Northerners don't have anybody disciplined enough and the Riverlands…"

"Ser Brynden?" Durran asked.

"Refused." Stannis told him. "Lord Hoster's death has placed Lord Edmure as Lord Paramount, I believe Ser Brynden is staying at Riverrun to help guide him."

Durran nodded. "Then another Lord perhaps."

"I know of nobody." Stannis sighed.

Durran thought, before an idea formed in his head. "What about a Tyrell? Willas, or Garlan?"

Stannis narrowed his eyes. "Be careful nephew. A marriage to both a Stark and a Baratheon, already a seat on the Small Council and now you want to give them another?"

"They need to be kept loyal, we need the Reach." Durran told him. "Viserys Targaryen is still out there, somewhere."

"We need them, we don't need to bend over for their every whim. We already let the Starks off lightly…" Stannis began.

"I let them off lightly because Robb isn't my enemy!" Durran began getting angry. "Uncle Renly died, I know. But he wanted to die. He wanted to die after he'd lost all he held dear. Robb had lost so much too. Better for me to look weak to strengthen the Seven Kingdoms than for me to be rigid in the face of defiance and lose two of them."

Stannis remained quiet, before nodding. "Very wise. The Northerners shall remember your leniency, but I fear so will others."

Durran chuckled darkly. "Let more of them rebel and they shall see how 'lenient' I can be."

Stannis nodded his approval. "Very well, I shall ask Ser Daven Lannister. He has a good mind, he can fit the role splendidly and raise the boy as his Squire."

"You mean Tommen." Durran said strongly. "My brother."

Stannis pursed his lips shut, and after a moment just nodded. "Yes."

"Very well. Talk to Ser Daven and suggest he foster Tommen too." Durran said. "I'll go and tell him, he'll be overjoyed."

"As for Master of Coin, I thought of combining that role with Master of Commerce for Mace Tyrell." Stannis said unhappily. "The man may be a detestable oaf, but he knows his coin."

"If you're happy with that Uncle." Durran nodded happily.

* * *

The chance to tell Tommen came later that night. Durran hosted a small feast to welcome Jaime back to the Capital, and had invited his Mother and siblings too. He waited until the meal was in full swing then turned to Dany.

"Will you join me at the Small Council tomorrow?" He asked. Cersei looked on.

Dany just smiled. "Of course." Before returning to her food.

"I've never known the Queen to be invited to the Small Council with her King before." Jaime noted. "Your Fathers certainly didn't."

"Well, the purpose of uniting our claims were to rule jointly as much as we could." Durran said, taking Dany's hand when he saw she visibly froze at Jaime talking to her. "To leave Dany out of ruling would seem silly."

"Can I come?" Tommen asked.

"You're too young, sweetling." Cersei smiled softly.

"But I'm Lord Lannister now!" Tommen exclaimed. "I rule too!"

Durran laughed. "Right now, Aunt Genna is keeping an eye on Casterly Rock. You, my young Lord, will be talking to Ser Daven in the morning."

"Ser Daven?" Jaime asked.

"I had thought about sending Tommen to squire with you, Uncle, but as Kingsguard you shall have much on your plate." Durran told him. "Ser Daven is the perfect choice to teach Tommen. He's a formidable knight, a Lannister and he knows the lands and has the respect of the people."

"A fine choice." Cersei smiled thinly.

"He shall be staying in the Capital, Uncle Stannis and myself have decided to name him as Master of Laws." Durran told them all. Jaime nodded at the choice, and Cersei visibly relaxed at a Lannister having a position of power.

The rest of the meal was nice and calm, with the family finally able to let stress and worry go as much as possible. It was still slightly tense, as Durran noticed Dany's reactions every time Jaime spoke, and Cersei was still seemingly unimpressed with the Targaryen Queen. Myrcella and Tommen broke much of that tension however, the younger children causing joy whenever they spoke.

* * *

Later that night, Durran was doing some mild exercise in the corner of the room while Dany had found a book on Queen Alysanne Targaryen. She was lying in bed reading it as Durran finished some pull ups. Lightly sweating, he took a cloth and wiped his face before joining her in bed.

"Are you ok?" He asked, concerned.

"Hmm?" she asked, not taking her nose out of the book. Durran looked at her pointedly until she looked back. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just… He killed my Father."

Durran sighed, wrapping his arms around her as she placed the book down and fell into his arms. "I understand. I executed the man behind my Father's death, it's only natural you should want the same."

Dany looked up and kissed him softly. "I know he's your Uncle, and I know he probably had good reason to, but he was his Kingsguard…"

"I understand." Durran said.

"Why did you let him back?" Dany asked. "He committed treason."

"He makes Mother smile." Durran shrugged. "I know it may seem strange, me letting him stay when they've been getting up to… that… for years." He shuddered at the thought. "But I've been harsh on my Mother since I returned to the Capital. She may deserve it to some degree, but she still birthed me, I owe it to her to try and keep her happy."

Dany smiled. "For a Baratheon, you're rather soppy." She grinned. Durran laughed and squeezed her tighter.

"Never tell anybody." He grinned. "I have a reputation to uphold."

Dany just laughed. "You have my word, Your Grace."

Durran smiled, and kissed her on the head before blowing out the candles. He lay awake a while however, and could tell Dany was too. "And anyway, as wrong as it may be between Lannisters, together they made two of my favourite people in the whole world. I can't stay mad at them."

* * *

Days turned to weeks, and the end of the year was nearing. Durran had decided that his cousin Stefan and Lady Margaery's wedding would be on the first day of the new year and everyone was rushing to try and make it a spectacular occasion. Stefan himself was feeling nervous, and Durran found him in the tiltyard testing out some moves but getting frustrated with his new iron hand hindering him. Durran carried on watching as Stefan threw his sword down in anger and went to sit down. Feeling the time was right, Durran nodded to Ser Podrick to stay on the balcony and walked down to sit next to his cousin, handing him some water when he got there.

"Give it time, and you'll be formidable again." Durran tried to be encouraging.

"I'm useless." Stefan scoffed.

"You're healing." Durran corrected. He stood up and took two tourney swords from the rack. "Come on." He insisted. Stefan groaned and got up, taking one of the swords and letting it drag on the floor. Durran shook his head and held a defensive stance. "Come and attack me."

"Your Grace I…" Stefan began.

"I'm your cousin today, not the King." Durran told him. "Come and attack me."

Stefan sighed and began a lacklustre attack. Durran shook his head. "No, trust me."

Stefan took a deep breath and with one arm began to skilfully swing the sword towards Durran, who expertly parried all the blows coming towards him. After a few minutes of this, Durran's defence missed one and the flat of Stefan's sword came crashing into his side, thankfully padded by faded Baratheon leather armour.

Durran grinned, rubbing his side. "Very good. See, you still have your skill your only problem is utilising the iron arm."

"Utilising it." Stefan scoffed. "It's a hindrance, that's all."

Durran grinned. "No cousin. Look." He quickly and forcefully rapped his sword against the iron object, nodding as the sword just bounced off of it harmlessly. Stefan looked surprised, and Durran took that opportunity to raise his sword and bring it down towards Stefan's head. The 14-year-old quickly brought his arm up, and looked on in amazement as Durran's sword just bounced off again with a metal clang.

"My arm…"

"You have your own personal shield." Durran said, lowering his weapon and gripping Stefan's shoulder in a brotherly way. "Like I said, utilise it, learn to move fluidly with it, and soon we shall be leading armies into battle together."

Stefan grinned. "Thank you Durran." He said, truly happy for the first time since the battle.

"What else is family for?" Durran grinned. He looked up and saw Dany smiling down at them, her eyes beaming. She noticed his gaze and nodded behind her. "If you'll excuse me cousin, my Queen awaits." He chuckled.

"Of course." Stefan said, planning to return to attacking the dummy as soon as Durran left.

The King made his way up to his wife, who immediately grabbed his hand and almost ran to the Throne Room. Durran was so confused, but Dany didn't stop until she had pushed him onto the Iron Throne, and stood so closely in front of him that Durran couldn't get up.

"What's going on?" Durran asked.

"I've been… unwell." Dany said cryptically. "In the morning, especially."

"Unwell?" Durran asked, concerned. "Have you seen Pycelle?"

"No! I refuse to go near that lecherous old man." Dany said disgusted. "I went to see Maester Bodrin." Bodrin was a younger Maester, mainly there for the minor nobles at court.

"And?" Durran asked.

Dany burst into a wide grin. "I'm not ill." She said, her hands falling to her belly.

Durran was confused at first, before gears began whirring in his head until finally it clicked. "You're not ill." He repeated, dazed.

"No." Dany grinned.

"You're not ill." Durran repeated again louder. This time he did stand up, his hands resting above her own. "You're not ill."

"No, I'm not." Dany said happily.

"We're with child?" Durran asked.

"I'm with child." Dany corrected, hitting him on the chest lightly. "You don't have to get fat."

"A baby. An heir." Durran grinned. He leant down and passionately kissed Dany. They made out for what seemed like an age, before they pulled apart as footsteps approached.

"Your Grace. If you could withhold your urges for a few moments." Stannis said, Varys at his side looking worried sick. "There's an emergency Small Council meeting."

"An emergency?" Durran asked. "Ser Podrick, find Ser Barristan. I'll be safe." Podrick nodded and left the room as Durran took Dany by the hand and led her into the Council chambers. Stannis and Varys followed closely behind. "What's going on?" He asked.

Varys looked worriedly at Stannis, who just nodded. At the confirmation, Varys turned to the Royal couple and told them. "News from Dorne, Your Grace."

* * *

The sun was beating down fiercely as two men stepped off a ship. To the right was sand, in front of them, more sand. As he looked to the left however he saw a large castle, with one tower poking up towards the sky.

"Sunspear, Your Grace." The second man said, his yellow shirt filthy after weeks at sea.

"Yes, thank you Mormont." The first said, annoyed. "Where is Prince Doran? He should be here to greet me." They looked back up to the castle, where they saw three horses speeding down the track leading down from the gate. "Finally."

They waited, and the leaner of the two grew more erratic. "They're three girls… why is he sending girls? Is he insulting me? His rightful King!"

"They're the Sand Snakes, Your Grace." Mormont explained. "Three exceptional warriors of Dorne, with blood to House Martell through their Father, Prince Oberyn."

The girls came closer, and the pair waited for them to dismount and walk towards them.

"Welcome to Dorne." The girl with the whip on her waist began in the sultry Dornish accent. "My name is Nymeria, and these are my sisters, Obara and Tyene." She said pointing to the girl with the spear, and the one with shorter hair.

"We thank you for receiving us." Mormont began. "My I introduce Viserys, of the House Targaryen. Third of his Name. Rightful King of the Andals and the First…"

"Yes, we know who he is." Obara cut in. Viserys turned to her, outraged, but she spoke before he got a chance. "My Uncle, Prince Doran, would like to extend his hospitality to you both, but your… friends… must wait outside the city gates."

"The Spider, he has ears and eyes everywhere." Nymeria smiled sweetly.

Viserys looked at Mormont, who nodded. Turning to the girls he said. "We accept your hospitality. I look forward to talking with Prince Doran very much indeed."

He looked back at the 200 ships pulling 20,000 men of the Golden Company into Dornish waters behind him and grinned. Soon enough, he would be sat on his throne.


	18. The Dragon Awoken

**284 AC**

The wind was howling around Dragonstone. A storm raged on and Queen Rhaella Targaryen could see the ships of the Royal Fleet in the distance being battered by it. Turning her back on the open balcony, she faced Ser Willem Darry, the elderly knight that had helped bring both her and Viserys over to the old Targaryen stronghold when Aerys had ordered them moved. She stroked her heavily pregnant belly. "They should be here by now." She sighed amusedly.

"Give him time, Your Grace." Ser Willem said.

"Or her." Rhaella told the old knight. "In any case, we'll be in the Usurpers hands before long. The brother Stannis has finished building his ships. He's on his way."

Ser Willem stood up to attention. "Let me escort you to safety then, Your Grace."

Rhaella shook her head. "I cannot move. I cannot give birth on a ship. No, continue with the plan. You get Viserys out as soon as the storm passes. You protect your King."

"I should protect you all." Ser Willem said gruffly.

"My good Ser. Viserys will be enough of a handful without having two other mouths." Rhaella joked, trying to allay all her fears. "I shall be ok. Stannis is kin no matter how distant."

Willem wasn't sure, but bowed for his Queen. "It will be done, Your Grace."

Rhaella made her way around the Painted Table, and kissed the old man firmly on the cheek. "You have been a staunch friend of my House, Ser Willem. I ask you for one more thing. Teach him as well as you did Rhaegar. Let him be a knight of prowess, a ruler worth the title."

Willem nodded. "I shall do my duty for my King."

"I know you will." Rhaella smiled. "Now, please bring my son to me."

Willem bowed again and left the chamber, leaving Rhaella alone to contemplate. She knew she would end up as a prisoner of the Usurper, possibly even be killed. She wouldn't go down without a fight though. She may have been weak while Aerys was alive but the news of his death had brought new vigour to the Targaryen woman. It was her job to protect the new King, Viserys, the Third of his name.

He appeared as she thought of him. The eight-year-old looking wearily at the lashing rain outside. "Mother, I don't like the storm."

"It will pass, my sweet King." Rhaella smiled, kissing him gently on the forehead. "I have a gift for you."

Viserys' eyes lit up as Rhaella reached below the table and pulled out a golden circlet. "This is the crown of Aegon III, worn by Viserys II and Aegon V also. It's a crown for a wise King, a good King. This is what you shall be one day my child. You shall make the Usurper rue the day he crossed swords with our house. You shall bring him our words. What are our words my sweet?"

Viserys just grinned. "Fire and Blood."

"Fire and Blood." Rhaella nodded her encouragement. She looked behind him, where Willem Darry had gotten into armour alongside four other men.

"The storm is passing. Please, come with us Your Grace." Willem Darry urged.

"I have no place on ships in my condition Ser." Rhaella shook her head sadly. She raised the crown high above Viserys' head. "I, Rhaella of the House Targaryen, hereby name you Viserys of the House Targaryen, the Third of his Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign."

"Long may he reign!" The five men shouted. Rhaella placed the crown gently over Viserys' head, careful to angle it right so it didn't immediately slip. She kissed him hard on the forehead and pushed him towards the men.

"Go with Ser Willem, my love." She said, the smile trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. "They will look after you. I shall see you again once you have a new brother or sister."

Viserys nodded and hugged his mother, before turning to Ser Willem and saying. "Come on Ser Willem!" Rhaella chuckled lightly at his authoritative tone as a tear rolled down her cheek.

An hour later, she was stood at the balcony again. The seas were filled with sinking ships, but in the distance a small merchants ship silently slipped eastwards. "Long may he reign." She whispered.

* * *

**286 AC**

For a year Willem Darry kept Viserys hidden in Braavos. For a year they stayed within the city, sending the other loyal knights to fetch food for the pair. Darry was old, yet still able to spend every waking moment teaching the boy all he had taught Rhaegar Targaryen 20 years before as Master of Arms and then everything else a King needed to know. Swordplay and history went down well with the young King, the numbers however were a struggle.

The safety of Braavos couldn't last however, and soon enough the Usurper's agents found them. Both Darry and Viserys escaped, but not without Ser Willem sporting a new scar down his face. Southwards they went, through the Braavosian Coastlands and the remains of Andalos, down through Pentos and the Flatlands before Ser Willem saw the banners he had been looking for around a year after leaving Braavos.

"Where are we Ser?" Viserys asked, the 10-year-old looking as regal as an exile could, carrying a small tourney sword on his hip. The pair were climbing a hill

"The free city of Myr is just over the hill, Your Grace." Darry said in his gruff, yet kind, voice. "Lys and Tyrosh are joining together against them to fight in the Disputed Lands."

"Then why aren't we going to one of those." Viserys asked, wrinkling his nose. "If they are together, they would win. They have bigger armies."

"Aye Your Grace." Willem Darry nodded. "But they don't have the very best." Viserys looked confused, but Darry just held his arms out to show the young boy the sea of tents outside the city. The organisation was incredible, even Darry himself had never seen any encampment quite so well set out. He could see Viserys trying to work out the banners. "They are pure fields of gold." He helped.

"Just gold?" Viserys asked, confused. "Which House is so arrogant?"

"No House, Your Grace." Darry grinned. "A company. The Company."

Viserys was soon in awe. "Are we joining?"

Darry nodded. "They were founded by Bittersteel to seat a Blackfyre on the Iron Throne I know, but as we arrived into Braavos I sent messages out towards them to see their views on helping us regain your throne. Myles Toyne is the Commander, and you need to be polite Your Grace. These are exiles and sellswords, they have no duty towards us, not like the realm of Westeros does."

Viserys nodded, understanding. "Let us head down Ser."

Willem nodded, and they were soon met by footsoldiers guarding the camp, who held them for a brief moment before taking the pair towards the central tent. Entering, Darry ushered Viserys in before taking a look around the tent.

He only knew one person by face. The other five men he only knew by reputation. Black Balaq, the archer stood to the left with his famed white hair, golden arm rings and the feathered cloak of green and orange. Next to him stood the spymaster Lysono Maar, the Valyrian. Centrally stood the jug eared captain of the Company, Myles Toyne, and then Gorys Edoryen, the red headed paymaster of the company and Harry Strickland. Willem only knew the Master of Arms of the company however, a man he had served with under King Aerys.

"Lord Connington." He bowed politely to the former Hand of the King.

"Not a Lord anymore, Ser Willem." Connington said grimly. "King Aerys saw to that."

"A nasty business." Darry nodded. Myles Toyne cleared his throat loudly, and attention diverted to him.

"Ser Willem Darry, I believe?" Toyne asked.

"Yes, Captain." Willem said to the large man with the black heart on his chestplate. "I come before you asking to add two more to your numbers."

"And eventually for us to fight for the little King's place over the seas." Lysono Maar sneered.

"We'll get to that once his Grace has grown." Ser Willem said strongly. "For now, he is young and in need of learning."

Connington nodded, and looked towards Viserys. "This is Viserys then?"

Viserys looked angry at being spoken down to. "King, King Viserys Ser Connington." He said briskly.

"As you say." Connington said.

"You can join us, Ser Willem." Myles Toyne said. "I see no harm in that, but until the King here proves himself I cannot promise anything outside of Essos. He will need to do his part for us too, we march south to the Disputed lands on the morrow."

"I will do my part, Ser." Viserys said strongly.

"We both shall." Ser Willem said. "All I ask in return until His Grace reaches an age is for protection. The Usurpers agents found us in Braavos, I'm sure they will do so again."

Connington spat on the floor. "Fuck the Usurper. Any man with ties back to him should hang."

Toyne nodded. "The little King shall be protected don't you worry Ser Darry. We are the finest company in the known world, he will be safe here. He will learn here."

Ser Willem turned to Viserys, who nodded. "Then if you'll accept us, we would both like to sign up."

* * *

**289 AC**

The war between the Three Daughters ended inconclusively, and the Golden Company found themselves moving all across Essos fighting in other minor wars for multiple Free Cities. Three years had passed since King Viserys had joined the Company, and so far h had been training under the tutelage of the main commanders of the Company in all aspects.

It was as he was learning his numbers with Gorys Edoryen that many of the other commanders were gathering.

"Word from Westeros?" Strickland asked, massaging his blisters.

"Aye." Toyne said, holding a letter. "The Lannister fleet has been sunk by the Ironborn. Balon Greyjoy has declared war."

"Ironborn." Connington scoffed. "Savages clinging on to their reaving and raping even when every rebellion they've had has been disastrous for them."

"It could be a chance though." Darry said thoughtfully. "If the Usurper takes his forces…"

"He has." Toyne said, passing round the note. "They're marching to Seagard as we speak."

"Then we can strike at King's Landing." Darry suggested. "Take the capital in the name of Viserys and the loyal Houses will flock to us. Now is the perfect time to strike."

Toyne nodded in agreement, but the others looked unsure. Strickland said. "And then what? We take the city and the full might of all of Westeros descends on us. We'd hold the city for what, a week?"

"The Tyrells are loyalists. The Dornish are loyalists…" Darry began, but Connington interrupted.

"The Dornish? They were loyal when Rhaegar…" He trailed off sadly before he continued with venom. "When Elia was married to Rhaegar. When the heir to the throne was Dornish. Now? Doran will hide behind his deserts like a craven."

Darry turned on Connington. "Ser, with respect…"

"No, Ser Willem." Connington said, raising his voice. "Strickland for once is right. Now is not the time. The Ironborn will be a problem for as long as it takes for the might of the Usurper to cross the sea to Pyke. Once that is over who will the cunts in their castles support, a boy of thirteen or the Usurper?"

Darry looked uncomfortable. "He's the rightful…"

"I don't trust the boy. Not yet." Connington said. "He's skilled I know, good with a sword and he could be bright if he tried, but there is too much Aerys in him and not enough Rhaegar."

"No man alive has enough of your Silver Prince in him." Strickland chuckled, only for it to be cut short as Connington's fist met his face.

"Enough!" Toyne roared, and the tent fell silent. "I like the idea of striking now, but Connington is right. Now is not the time."

Connington nodded. "He's still young, let us teach him all we can about how to rule. Once he can prove himself worthy of being a capable leader and has the sword, then we can look towards striking. The Usurper won't cling onto power forever. When Viserys is ready and the Usurper's hold is weak, that is the time for us to strike. Not now."

Darry nodded unhappily. "Very well. If you'll excuse me, some recruits need training."

Toyne nodded, and the three in the tent waited until he had gone. "He's too rash." Toyne sighed.

"He's old." Strickland said, rubbing his jaw.

"He's one of the best knights I've ever known." Connington said strongly. "He trained me to be a knight. Have some respect."

"He's old." Strickland said again. "He's worried he'll die before he sees Westeros again."

Toyne nodded. "Time will come my friends. We will cross the Narrow Sea I promise you."

* * *

**296 AC**

Willem Darry died the next year after an injury corrupted. Viserys however remained strong in the face of his friend and mentor dying. Jon Connington took over for Darry in training him to be a knight, and while the work was tougher and the praise in short supply, the Targaryen boy enjoyed himself, especially in the rare moments Connington spoke about Rhaegar.

He was knighted by Connington in 294 AC after a fine showing in combat against Qohor. From then on Viserys rose up the ranks quickly, soon rising to have command of 200 men. Myles Toyne was a good mentor too, but then, everything changed.

Myles Toyne died and Jon Connington was the man chosen to lead the Golden Company. A northerner by the name of Jorah Mormont had come in to command having joined a few years earlier, and Viserys had struck up a friendship with the bear like man.

The Targaryen King stood outside the command tent staring up at Myles Toyne's skull on the banner, just contemplating his future. News from the Seven Kingdom's had been little, and the now 20-year-old was getting impatient. He noticed the ginger hair of Jon Connington walking up to stand next to him.

"It's strange, actually knowing the man that one of those skulls belong to." Connington said. "I've been a member of the company since I was exiled and Myles Toyne is all I knew. Now he joins the like of Bittersteel as a golden skull on a banner."

"He's been immortalised." Viserys said proudly. "Like all Targaryen Kings and Queens beyond the Narrow Sea. Like I will be."

"Hmm." Connington mumbled.

"When will we attack?" Viserys asked. He stood taller than Connington now, and his eyes pierced the Stormlander.

Connington didn't buckle however. "Not yet." Was all he said.

"Why not?" Viserys asked angrily. "I'm ready, and the Usurper has held my throne for over a decade! We need to strike!"

Connington looked icily towards Viserys. "You don't tell me what we need to do. I learnt the folly of not taking everything into account at the Stoney Sept. The time isn't right, if you want the Company's help taking the Iron Throne, then don't rush. Have patience and wait."

"For how long!" Viserys shouted. "I'm the last Targaryen alive. If I wait any longer it will be too late and the House will die out. No. We should attack while we are strong."

"The Usurper is strong also." Connington snarled. "Trust me, I'd like nothing more than to strike him down right now, but the time isn't right."

"When will it be?" Viserys asked angrily.

"When they don't have your sister!" Connington shouted. Viserys looked dumbstruck. "Your Mother, the Queen, she gave birth just before she died. We have it on good authority that the baby survived and is a captive. If you want a wife of the blood, then you will have patience." With that he strode into the tent, leaving an open mouthed Viserys waiting at the entrance. A few moments later, another presence was stood next to the Valyrian.

"Varys, the Spider, he's our informant." Mormont said quietly. "Connington doesn't trust him but his words are true. Your sister, Daenerys, is a prisoner in the Red Keep but has recently become friendly with the Usurper's second son. Connington is waiting until that can become something more, until the Usurper has true opposition in his own son when it would come to an invasion."

Viserys couldn't speak for the longest time. "A sister."

"Daenerys." Mormont nodded. "I promise you My King, when we get the word from Varys that it is time to strike and strike effectively, then we will do so."

"We better." Viserys said darkly. "I won't leave my sister in the hands of the Usurper Ser Jorah."

* * *

**301 AC**

After five years, three campaigns and dozens upon dozens of deaths at his own hand, Viserys Targaryen was finally stood in the command tent talking about the land across the Narrow Sea. The commanders of the Golden Company were all gathered.

"News has come." Lysono Maar began. "The Usurper is dead."

Viserys' grin was unmatched. "How?" He asked excitedly.

"A drunken hunt." Lysono grinned.

"He always was a fool." Connington scoffed.

"So a boy is on the Throne?" Mormont asked.

"For now." Lysono said. "War has erupted."

Connington raised his eyebrow. "Between?"

"Four Kings." Lysono Maar laughed. "The eldest, Joffrey, executed Eddard Stark…"

"The Usurpers dog." Connington spat.

"He wanted my head." Mormont acknowledged. "I'm not sad to hear of his own rolling."

Lysono looked annoyed at the interruptions. "Anyway, his son has declared independence and is fighting in the Riverlands. Balon Greyjoy has launched another Independence bid also."

"That's three Kings." The paymaster Gorys Edoryen said with a smile. "Not four."

"The fourth." Maar grinned. "Is the second son of the Usurper. A civil war between brothers."

Laughs and grins ran around the tent. Viserys felt like the dragons had returned. "Now. Now is the time."

"Aye." was the mutterings around the tent, and all eyes fell on Jon Connington. He leant on the table with both hands, and looked up towards Harry Strickland and nodded. The man left the tent, and Connington looked then to Mormont.

"Do we have the men?"

"Aye."

"The ships?"

"Aye."

Connington nodded, and turned towards Edoryen. "Can we afford it?"

"We have enough, but the men won't like abandoning the Myr contract."

"This is what the company was founded for." Connington said quickly. "To sail across the sea and sit the rightful King on the Iron Throne. That is what we shall do."

Viserys grinned even wider. "Your loyalty shall not be forgotten Sers."

"It better not be." Black Balaq grinned.

Harry Strickland entered the room at that moment, holding something wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Connington, who placed the cloth on the table. "My King. When Bittersteel returned from the Fourth Rebellion, he was angry. Angrier than you can ever imagine. He got us to swear to hide this until the rightful monarch proved himself worthy." Strickland said. "Now is the time to reveal it. Your Grace, I give you the symbol of your House."

Viserys stepped forwards and unwrapped the cloth carefully. Inside, was a sheathed sword, the crossguard decorated with two dragon heads on either side, the handle made of black leather and the hilt adourned with a ruby. He gripped the sword and held it up in awe, unsheathing the bastard sword to reveal the glisten of Valyrian Steel.

"Blackfyre." He whispered.

"The sword of Kings." Strickland grinned.

Viserys stared for a while longer, before sheathing it again. "Our time has come again." He grinned. "Send word to Dorne. They will be our most likely allies in this. They will support me."

"We have had no word from Varys in over a year." Lysono reminded them.

"We don't need the eunuch. We need fighting men, the Dornish, the Reach. All the loyalist houses from the Usurpers rebellion and more that have chafed under his misrule." Connington said.

"Then let us send the letters." Viserys grinned. "Let us retake the Throne."


	19. Standing Firm

The news hit Durran like a dragon had whacked him around the head with its tail. He had to lean on the Small Council table for support. Dany stood beside him, breathing heavily.

"Viserys? In Dorne?" She asked.

Varys nodded solemnly. "Yes, Your Grace."

"How." Durran said angrily. "How has this happened."

"I don't know, Your Grace. I lost all word of Viserys years ago." Varys sighed. "He was hidden across the Narrow Sea just before Lord Stannis got to Dragonstone. From there, Willem Darry trained him and they joined the Golden Company when he was but ten years of age."

"Why are we only hearing about this now?" Stannis asked.

Varys looked at his feet. "I feared King Robert would kill the child."

"He's a child no longer." Durran snarled. "Now thanks to your inaction, we face a rebellion from Dorne."

"My apologies My King." Varys bowed.

"Apologies mean nothing now." Durran said fiercely moving to stand directly in front of the eunuch. "Tell me this. Are you loyal to me? Or is a Targaryen King what you wanted all along?"

Silence fell over the room, as Varys visibly paled. "Durran." Dany said from behind him. "Stop."

"I am no traitor to you, Your Grace. You and Queen Daenerys are the monarchs to lead us. I swear to you, my allegiance is yours, now and forever." Varys said, getting to one knee.

Durran nodded, but his eyes remained cold. "You will send a message to Lord Doran, Varys. Command him to hand over Viserys Targaryen and the traitors of the Golden Company immediately. Failure to do so is an act of treason."

"Of course, Your Grace." Varys nodded.

"Ser Barristan will shadow you." Durran added. The elder knight nodded, and led Varys out of the chamber. Grabbing a goblet, he took a swig of water before launching the golden cup across the room. "Traitors everywhere." He growled.

"He's looked after me since I was a little girl…" Dany said weakly.

"Likely to bring you up to be Viserys' Queen." Stannis told her. "You are right not to trust him, Your Grace."

Durran sighed, calming down slightly. "This city…" He began, before looking over at Dany. "Are you ok?"

"My brother is invading my country." Dany scoffed. "Of course I'm not ok."

"We will try and sort this out amicably." Durran said. "But we will need to strengthen the borders."

"I will send word to the Marcher Lords to call their banners." Stannis said, scratching a note quickly.

"We need a Baratheon there with them." Dany said.

"Stefan can go." Stannis said. "His wedding is close, as soon as that is over both he and Lady Margaery can go back to the Stormlands, where he can lead from Blackhaven with Lord Beric. We'll need the Redwyne Fleet too, they can blockade the Redwyne Straits protecting the reach and patrol further southwards."

"Send the Ser Davos and the Royal Fleet to Cape Wrath and Estermont, they can blockade from there." Durran added. "Fortify Stonehelm too, I don't want any surprises coming up the River Slayne."

"It will be done, Your Grace." Stannis nodded, heading off to see to his duties. Dany sat down, her head in her hands. Durran walked behind her and placed his hands over her dainty shoulders, massaging.

"What are we going to do." Dany whispered. "There will be some Houses that join with Viserys, I'm sure of it."

"And we will deal with them all." He whispered with a growl. "This isn't Robb Stark, this isn't a justified rebellion. This is treason. If this comes to war, any House that willingly choose to join with Viserys will be wiped out."

Dany turned her body around to face him. "You would wipe out entire families?"

Durran just nodded. "I will not risk our child, my love. Say I lose, Viserys would kill the child and marry you. We cannot let that happen."

Dany shook her head. "He will not harm us." She told Durran defiantly. "He may be my blood, but you are my family. If he turns down leniency, he will perish."

Durran nodded. "I will offer him Dragonstone. As he is your kin, I shall try and be peaceful to begin with but if that fails… I can't afford to look weak again, not after my deal with Robb Stark."

"I understand." Dany nodded. "I don't want to risk the Dragons either, only Rhaellar."

"She's bonded to you, I understand that." Durran nodded. "Not using the other Dragons though, I'm not sure my bannermen will understand…"

"I don't want to risk it." Dany said strongly. "If Viserys manages to bond to one of them then who knows what damage he could do."

"Very well." Durran nodded. He stared down at the table in front of him, holding Dany in his arms. "We will get through this. We've beaten Joffrey, we've neutralised the threat of the North. We can do this too."

* * *

In dual file the Northmen and River Lords with their retinues rode up the mud path towards the Western bank castle of the Twins. Arya looked up at the castle in disgust, a face that Catelyn Stark noticed next to her.

"You need to wear a smile, Arya. Walder Frey is a prickly man, don't give him any reason to believe you're unhappy at this arrangement." She urged. Arya had been told on the way to the Twins that she would have to marry a Frey when she turned 16 in a couple of years, and was not happy about it at all.

"He might call it off at that point." She grumbled, but Cat looked at her sternly.

"Or he may push forward the wedding." She countered. "You have bled, remember?"

Arya scowled, looking forwards as the castle rose in stature the closer they got. They went through the Western castle, and dismounted just before they got to the Eastern castle, the seat of Walder Frey. Walking through to the Lord's Hall, Arya found herself placed next to Sansa and Catelyn as Robb and Edmure greeted Lord Walder.

"Lord Stark. Lord Tully. Fellow guests." Walder Frey said snidely from his chair of black oak. "I welcome you to the Twins. Be welcome in my halls, and at my table." Arya noticed bread and salt being passed around, and as graciously as she could muster, took a piece of bread and dipped it in the salt, chewing on it quickly as Walder Frey droned on. "I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the Seven."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Frey." Robb bowed his head, as Edmure repeated the same.

"I was disappointed, Lord Stark, to hear that you bent your knee to the Baratheon King." Walder told him. "I was so hoping for one of my girls to be a Queen, you see."

Arya felt her cheeks grow red with rage, but Robb handled himself well. "I agreed to wed one of your daughters while an heir, and I come today as a Lord to fulfil that promise. I believe your daughter will be more than happy, Lord Frey." He told the Frey.

"Hmm." Walder Frey said, his eyes piercing into Robb. "I suppose that's true. Not quite a King, but a battle scarred Lord. Tell me, was it really a Dragon?"

Nodding, Robb explained. "Aye, Daenerys Targaryen on one of her Dragons. A formidable opponent that we all are lucky wasn't bent on destroying us entirely."

"Quite." Frey nodded. "Perhaps this Dragon Queen will pay us all a visit one day." He sneered, letting his sons laugh at the non-joke.

Robb stood forwards. "It would be an honour to meet your eligible daughters, Lord Frey. As you can understand the North is still in the hands of Ironborn raiders, and I believe it mutually beneficial for the wedding to take place as soon as you are able to host it."

"We can have the wedding whenever his Lordship desires." Walder Frey grinned. "My son, Lothar can take you to the girls now, if you will."

"Thank you, Lord Frey." Robb bowed his head politely.

"The rest of my brood will show your guests to chambers we have prepared." Walder Frey said, pointing to the large array of men in Frey caps. The room began to empty, as Arya was escorted to a room by her betrothed.

"I'm Waldron Frey." He said nervously. "My Father says I am to marry you."

"I'm told the same." Arya said monotonously.

"I hope we can get to know one another while we are here." He said. Arya just nodded, and they walked on in silence until the room that her and Sansa would share came into view. Their things were placed in one corner, and the Frey escorts left them to settle in.

* * *

**303 AC**

The wedding of Lady Margaery and Stefan Baratheon had been a successful night. The vows had been said, the feast was one to rival even the best of King Robert's, and the bedding was performed without a problem by the blessing of Durran. The next morning was a calm one. The sky was clear, and Durran sat for breakfast with Dany, Stannis and Shireen as they awaited the newly married couple. They were listening to Shireen telling a tale of young Davos Baratheon in a storm when the door to Durran's chambers opened, and the newlyweds entered.

"Lord Stefan, Lady Margaery." Dany smiled. "Please, join us."

Stefan held a seat out for Margaery to sit, and then took his place at her side. "Thank you for the invitation, Your Grace." Margaery smiled.

"It's only fair." Durran waved off. "I trust last night was enjoyable?"

Margaery just nodded formally, but Stefan gave off a telling grin before steeling his face. "Very, Your Grace." He said.

"Good, I expect for the heir to the Throne to have a friend running around the halls of the Red Keep in no time at all then." Durran grinned. Dany smiled at the image too. The rest of the table seemed to ignore the comment for a moment, before Margaery realised.

"You're with child?" She asked Daenerys. Dany nodded happily. "We found out last week. We aren't announcing it to the country yet but we both thought that Durran's trusted and loyal family deserved to know."

Durran took her hand and nodded, letting the congratulations from the newlyweds to wash over them. Stannis just looked at him, his blind eye terrifying as the sunlight glinted off it. "I presume that was what the spectacle at the Iron Throne was all about?"

Dany nodded, blushing slightly. As Durran chuckled, Shireen just held a smug grin. "What are you so happy about, cousin?" Durran asked.

"I guessed three days ago." She smiled sweetly. "Her Graces breasts are filling her dresses more."

Drink spluttered across the table, and everyone was amused to notice it was Stannis who had caused it. Durran belted out a laugh at the sight. "Uncle, you seem flustered!" He chuckled.

"Shireen, apologise to Her Grace at once… for…"

"For noticing?" Shireen asked sweetly, before turning to Dany. "I'm sorry for staring at your breasts, Your Grace."

Durran couldn't help himself as another wave of laughter hit both him and Stefan. Margaery held a grin as Dany tried to control herself too. "That's alright, Lady Shireen. It's only natural to be interested as your body grows."

Stannis looked pale. "May I be excused from this? I fear I'm not as young as I once was taking part in this conversation…" He mumbled. Durran was loving the rare sight of a flustered Stannis.

"If you insist Uncle, I expect you'll be there to see Lord Stefan and Lady Margaery off?" Durran asked, grinning.

"Of course, Your Grace." Stannis nodded, before saying his goodbyes and swiftly vacating the room, much to the three Baratheon's amusement.

"That was cruel." Dany said, still smiling.

"He's always been a bit prudish." Shireen shrugged. "It was funny to see Father all flustered like that."

"Your daughter's developing body isn't a topic a Father would enjoy." Durran laughed. "I'm sure he took part in plenty of conversations of the like with my Father."

"I dread to think." Stefan groaned, tucking into a sausage. "What would you have me do when I'm in the Stormlands, Your Grace?"

Noticing the tone had shifted to war, the table quietened as Durran thought. "Marshal the houses on the Kingsroad on your way down, we need plenty of men at each of the Marcher castles so try and split them accordingly, focusing on Nightsong and Blackhaven. When you're at Storm's End hopefully we will know more and you can call your banners."

Nodding, Stefan agreed. "I will command with Lord Dondarrion at Blackhaven."

"As long as you feel you are ready." Durran told him.

"I am. I'm not needed at Storm's End with Lady Margaery and my Mother there. I'll be of more use where the men can see me, fighting with them."

"Just come back to me." Margaery told him sweetly.

"Of course, wife." Stefan nodded, taking her hand with his remaining one.

"You will be an important line of defence." Dany stated. "We can't let the Dornish through into the Stormlands."

"This is all banking on Viserys refusing the plea for peace of course." Durran said. "But you can never be too careful. I want all avenues of travel out of Dorne blocked.

"They will be." Stefan said. "The Marcher Lords are alerted and Lord Tyrell is calling a few thousand men from Oldtown to assist us at Nightsong. We will stand firm."

"My Father is eager to stop the Dornish at all costs, Your Grace." Margaery added.

"So long as his men are ready, then they will be most useful." Durran nodded. "Any word of defectors?"

"The Florent's remain quiet, but no trouble is expected from them, they are on their own and my marriage has solidified House Tyrell's rule." Margaery smiled. "The Reach is with you."

"Can we stop being boring for a minute?" Shireen sighed. "We can talk about war later."

Durran grinned, and raised a goblet. "To Stefan and Margaery then."

The others followed suit, and had a welcome return to feeling like teenagers after the toast.

* * *

Arya Stark seemed to be the only person in the entirety of the Twins to be miserable. Sansa was off dancing with Edmure Tully, her Mother was laughing in conversation with Lord Karstark and Robb was up on the high table feeding his new bride, Roslin Frey. Grumpily, she had a sip of water as her betrothed tried to speak to her. She ignored him completely however, until Sansa pulled her away and they went to refill their goblets.

"Arya, you need to smile more." Sansa whispered. "It's being noticed that you're unhappy."

"Of course I'm unhappy!" Arya exclaimed quietly. "I don't want to marry. I don't want to move here. I'd rather die."

"I remember your Mother saying the same things about your Father." A gruff voice came from behind them. The two girls turned to see the Blackfish.

"Ser Brynden." Sansa curtseyed.

"None of that girl." He waved off.

"How do you mean about Mother?" Arya asked.

Brynden smiled reminiscently. "When your Uncle Brandon died and Hoster announced that Cat was to marry Lord Eddard, she was very unhappy. But then she met him, and grew to love him. Who is to say that you won't be the same?"

"But I don't ever want to marry." Arya said unhappily. "I want to stay free, and be able to fight for Robb."

The Blackfish grinned. "You remind me of myself. I was the same."

"And you managed it!" Arya exclaimed. "Why can't I?"

"Because you're a Lady, Arya." Sansa rolled her eyes. "We don't get a choice."

"You slander yourself." The Blackfish noted amusedly. "In my experience, women can be every bit as powerful as men. It just takes the right type. If you're stubborn enough to set your sights on being a warrior, nobody can stop you."

"Is that what happened with you, Uncle?" Sansa asked.

The Blackfish's eyes darkened. "I never married because there was nobody available worth marrying. I wasn't needed to further any family lines, or make spares. Hoster did all that." He sighed, before looking over at Cat and smiling. "My duty was to your Mother and her siblings, nothing more."

"I can be there for Robb's children." Arya grinned. "I can be Master of Arms!"

Sansa was about to complain again, but Walder Frey had stood up and tapped his glass with a knife. "My Lords! My Ladies!" He began in his weasel like tone. "The Septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said, and Lord Robb has wrapped my daughter in a cloak. But… they are not yet man and wife! A sword needs a sheath, and a wedding needs a bedding!"

The men in the room all cheered bawdily, and Lord Umber was among the first to rise to the High Table and pick up Lady Roslin, ripping off part of her dress in the process. Sansa looked horrified, whereas Arya looked amused.

"This is what you're so excited for?" Arya laughed.

"It's… it's not…"

"Not what you thought?" The Blackfish barked a laugh. "It never is."

"Mother had to endure this?" Sansa asked him.

"No." The Blackfish admitted. "Lord Eddard treated her with the utmost respect and led her away safely. Your Aunt Lysa did however so the guests weren't too disappointed."

They watched on as Roslin, being held up by six men, passed by them, and saw Robb give them a smile as he was hurried on by a giggling group of Walder Frey's daughters. The bedding party left the room and the remaining guests were treated with a rendition of 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'. Sansa excused herself to her chambers, as Arya watched the Blackfish in awe as he recounted to her stories of the many battles he'd been involved in. Eventually she had a quick dance with Waldron Frey to a Northern tune, but vowed to herself that she would never marry. She would be like the Blackfish.

* * *

The Small Council was tense. Durran stared at the letter he had received from Doran Martell.

"He's never been stupid. Never." He said, surprised. "Why now?"

"The Golden Company are formidable allies." Stannis said. "He feels emboldened and feels they can finally have justice for their slain kinsmen."

"But to demand members of my own family?" Durran argued. "The man has lost his wits."

"We cannot accept." Mace Tyrell said strongly.

"No, Lord Tyrell." Stannis told him through gritted teeth. "We cannot."

"Then it's war." Dany sighed.

"I can meet this Viserys, offer him our terms personally…" Durran began.

"This isn't the Stark boy, or your family." Stannis told him sharply. "Any view you have on warfare, throw it out. The Golden Company have numbers and weapons that will cause devastation. To win this war, we have to be smart. They will likely come for Nightsong first. Lord Bryce must be told to expect them."

"What weapons do they have?" Durran asked Varys. The eunuch was still being shadowed by the Kingsguard, but was remaining loyal.

"Elephants would be the most dangerous, but they have skilled tacticians at their head. Jon Connington and Jorah Mormont among them." Varys told them.

"A traitor and a slaver." Stannis spat.

"But clever men." Durran sighed. "How many men can we call upon?"

"The entire Stormlands are prepared, but I fear I only have 12,000 men spare after the previous wars." Stannis told him. "The Westerlands have none, the Crownlands maybe 2,000."

"Call them up." Durran said. "I want them sent down to Nightsong."

"Your Grace." Varys nodded, scribbling a note down.

"The fleets are in place." Stannis said. "Ser Davos is just off the coast of Estermont, and his fleet stretches out towards the Stepstones. Lord Redwyne too has told us they are in place."

"Then hopefully, this mess can be solved before it truly starts." Durran sighed.

"Send ravens to the individual Houses of Dorne." Dany told them. "Offer them clemency if they repeal their allegiances to the traitors of House Martell."

"That's a good idea." Stannis admitted. "Cause some tension from within."

"See it done." Durran nodded. Any word from the other Kingdoms?"

"Robb Stark has left the Twins and is heading with his army towards Moat Cailin. The Riverlands are on standby, with around 7,000 men available according to Ser Brynden." Varys said, pulling a raven scroll from his sleeves.

"The Vale is silent." Stannis said. "I don't like it. You shouldn't have sent him up there."

"He shall do what is necessary or I shall remind him what dragon fire looks like." Durran said sternly. "Send another raven, I want his forces to remain vigilant, if the Stormlands fall, we need the Vale. They're the only fresh Kingdom."


	20. The North Remembers

The day after the wedding, Lord Walder was gracious enough to offer Robb and his council a chamber to plan the Northerners next moves. Robb looked around. Lords Bolton, Karstark, Glover, Forrester, Umber and Tully being joined by Lady Mormont, Edwyn Frey, the new heir to the Twins after his Father Ryman was burnt by the Targaryen's dragon, as well as Brynden Tully and Ser Wendel Manderly. A map of Westeros was laid out on a table, with carvings in place to detail all the armies in the realm.

"King Durran has asked the Riverlanders to amass on the High Road on the border to the Vale in case of any treachery." Edmure told them all. "We have around 7,000 men, not including House Frey."

"Would Aunt Lysa really betray the King?" Robb asked.

"Lysa is a troubled woman." Brynden told them all. "With Baelish in her ear, I think any hint at a power grab will be taken."

"Then by all means you should leave for the border, Lord Edmure." Robb said. "We can take Moat Cailin without the majority of the Riverlands, you are needed elsewhere."

Edmure bowed his head, while Edwyn Frey produced a letter. "We received this from Seaguard." He told them all, handing it to his Liege Lord. Edmure read it.

"The Lannister fleet is docked at Seaguard." He said in disgust.

"They haven't the men to attack us, Lord Edmure." Bolton reminded him. "They are part of King Durran's relief force."

"And they will be put to use." Robb nodded slowly. "Lord Glover, I want you to take 2,000 men and board the ships, travel up the Fever and burn any remaining Ironborn ships."

"With pleasure." Robett Glover grinned.

"Lord Bolton, Lord Umber, Ser Edwyn." Robb continued. "March up the Causeway with the bulk of the army. 7,000 men. Besiege the castle at first, but be ready for an assault."

"My Lord." Bolton and Umber both nodded.

"That leaves 4,000 men with me." Robb nodded.

Maege Mormont looked questioningly at Robb. "What will the rest of us be doing." She asked.

"I'd like yourself and Lord Karstark to take a rowboat and sail up river towards the Neck. Make noise, get the attention of Howland Reed. We'll use the Neck to bring the rest of our forces up to re-join Lord Glover. They won't expect as many men and should be taken off guard." Robb told them all.

The room began mumbling their agreements. "When do we leave?" Karstark asked.

"You and Lady Mormont can go today, I want Lord Reed ready for us." Robb told him. "The Southern forces should be ready to leave in three days, and Lord Glover can leave then too. The rest of us will wait until we hear from you." Agreements were made, and plans finalised. Robb looked around the table and decided to say one final, rallying word. "Too long we have been away from our home. Now is the time we take it back. Let's use the victories in the South to spur us on."

"Aye!" Umber shouted. "Let's show these cunts who they're messing with!"

"The North Remembers, My Lords and Lady." Robb shouted above the noise. "Let's show the Ironborn that."

* * *

Durran hated the fact that yet again his nameday was being celebrated in what was likely a time of war. That didn't stop his family from easing the burdens however. The day started with a formal breakfast in his Mother's chambers, where all of his family were gathered, Baratheon and Lannister alike. Stannis was due to officially end the regency the next day, but it was Cersei who stood up and called for some quiet.

"Sixteen years to this very day, I brought you into this world." Cersei smiled, looking at Durran. "You were noisy, strong, and everything your Father wanted in a son." Durran smiled at that, glad his Mother could put aside her grievances for one day. "And now look, you've grown into a strong King, making us all proud. I know times are difficult at the moment, but we will persevere and beat back the foreign invaders with you leading us, I am sure. To Durran."

"To Durran." They all toasted. Smiling, Durran hugged his Mother tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered, and she nodded knowingly. They finished the meal, and together, Cersei and Durran were escorted to the Sept of Baelor, where the pair of them stood outside the tomb encasing Joffrey's remains.

They stood in silence for a number of minutes. Silently thinking. Durran looked up at the effigy of his brother. After taking the throne, he had thought long and hard about whether or not to treat his Brother with this much respect, but for the safety of his siblings Joffrey needed to be treated as a former King, and with King Robert requesting to be entombed in Storm's End, Joffrey was the first King in history to be buried in the Sept of Baelor.

The effigy portrayed Joffrey standing tall and regal, with his crown on his head and looking every part the dashing King. He knew his Mother appreciated it, and if he was honest with himself that made it all worthwhile.

"It could have all been so different." Cersei sighed.

"He would never have been a good King." Durran told her. "As bad as it sounds, for the realm and for us all, he's safer dead."

Cersei winced at that. "I could take cruelty, cruelty is in a King's nature in some form or another. It was his jealousy that was his downfall. Without that, together you could have ushered in a new age of peace."

Durran wasn't so sure, but arguing today of all days wasn't wise. "I'm due to meet Dany at the Dragonpit. You can join us if you'd like?" He asked.

Cersei smiled weakly. "No, you go. I'll stay here a while longer." Nodding, he allowed Ser Perwyn to stay with his Mother as Ser Podrick and Ser Arys followed him to the Dragonpit.

After stopping on the way to talk to some of the smallfolk, he finally arrived at the Dragonpit, and stopped in the entrance to just watch Dany for a moment. His wife was five months pregnant and a bump was beginning to form. The Dragons noticed too, as Aelyx was currently sniffing Dany, before darting off into the sky.

Durran was discovered as Dārys landed in front of him with a thud. Stroking the Dragon's nose carefully, he noticed Dany walk up beside him.

"He's oddly calm right now." Dany noticed.

"Maybe he's finally grown fond of people." Durran grinned.

Dany shook her head. "Nope, just you it seems." She said thoughtfully.

Durran shrugged. "Go and be with your siblings." He told the Dragon. Dārys just snorted distastefully, before skulking off and launching himself in the air. "Has he ever obeyed anyone else before?"

"Only Melisandre." Dany said, concerned. "You don't think…"

"No." Durran said quickly. "I'm not a Targaryen, likely he just knows me from when he was smaller."

Shrugging, Dany put it to one side. "I brought us some food out here, so we can be left peacefully for once."

Grinning, Durran gestured for the two Kingsguard to stay by the entrance of the Dragonpit as the lovers walked over to where Dany had set up a small picnic. Lying on the floor, he gazed up and watched the three dragons fly around the pit high up. Smiling, he let his wife feed him a grape before returning the favour.

It was nice to just relax for a change, laughing and remembering the times they first spent together alone, showing each other that they still retained the same feelings, and more, for one another. As dusk came to pass however, the blissful mood was interrupted.

Ser Arys came walking over towards them, and Durran noticed as Dany was beginning to drift off to sleep in his arms. "Ser Arys, I asked not to be interrupted." He whispered.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. But a rider has come from the Red Keep. Lord Stannis requires your presence in the Small Council chamber urgently." Arys told him. "We've received a message from Dorne."

Nodding, and bringing his mind back to a Kingly one, Durran began to get up, stirring Dany. "We have to go back to the castle, my love." He told her.

"Hmm? Ok." She said sleepily. Durran chuckled.

"Can you see to it the Queen is looked after?" Durran asked Ser Arys. "I shall head back immediately."

* * *

Durran walked into the Small Council chambers to see almost the full council there. Mace Tyrell looked as pompous as ever, Devan Lannister was able to make an appearance and Randyll Tarly had recovered from his wounds fully. In the centre of the table was a letter. Durran walked to his seat and immediately read it.

"I, Viserys of the House Targaryen do claim the Iron Throne by birthright." Durran groaned. "This has gone to everyone, hasn't it?"

"It seems that way, Your Grace." Varys said.

"House Florent has already answered his summons." Tarly spat out. "Blasted traitors."

"We shall deal with House Florent imminently, Lord Randyll." Mace Tyrell told them all. "My nephew Garlan shall lead the charge."

Durran nodded at that. "A good plan."

"Just ensure the borders to Dorne are fortified well, My Lord." Randyll Tarly said, looking at the map. "Keep 3,000 men with Lord Cuy at Sunhouse, and move 5,000 from our borders to Nightsong. The rest can be used to pacify the Reach. There's bound to be more traitors somewhere."

Durran grimaced at the thought. "Has anyone else responded Varys?"

Varys looked troubled. "The Westerlands are too broken to have any form of host."

"And we wouldn't anyway." Ser Daven said, unamused. "We have no blood ties to Viserys, our loyalty is with King Durran and don't you forget that, Spider."

"My apologies." Varys bowed. "The North will stay out of this; Robb Stark is focusing on regaining control of the country…"

"And so he should too." Durran told them all. "We will not ask for help from Robb Stark."

"We need to ask it of Lord Tully however." Varys said. "Baelish has betrayed you, Your Grace. Many of the lesser Houses have followed him in declaring Viserys the rightful King."

Durran slammed his fist on the table. Stannis gave him a look to calm himself, and he collected his thoughts before saying. "What of the major Vale Houses?"

Varys looked happier at that. "They've formed an alliance against Baelish. House Royce, Waynwood, Hunter, Templeton, Redfort and Belmore are yours. Lord Royce has written himself to tell you he is leading the alliance towards the Gates of the Moon to trap Baelish. I presume a battle will be had between all the forces of the Vale soon."

"Baelish has the numbers, just, but Lord Royce holds many of the larger Houses in the Vale." Tarly noted. "We should send in the Riverlanders by Darry."

Durran nodded. "See to it that Edmure knows to link up with Lord Royce. I want Baelish's head."

"What about Dorne?" Ser Barristan asked.

"Not to worry." Durran said. "I've been working on something specifically for Dorne…"

* * *

A fortnight after Maege Mormont and Rickard Karstark had left with retinues for the Neck, Robb was stepping off the small boat that had brought him to the great crannog that was Greywater Watch. The ground was surprisingly sturdy as it looked like reeds and logs had just been pushed together, but in front of Robb was the most impressive building. It wasn't a castle in the usual sense of the word, but an extremely large thatched hut was flanked by two wooden watchtowers, and beyond the seat of House Reed was another circular thatched building, half as tall as the hut but around four times as large.

"So, this is where the Crannogmen hide." Arya noted from behind him.

"Be polite, Arya." Robb warned jovially, as he made his way into the building. An entrance room of sorts presented itself, and just by the door stood Maege, Rickard, and a smaller man, with greying brown mopped hair and a thin beard covering his face. Lord Reed.

"Lord Stark." The man said. "Welcome to Greywater Watch."

Robb bowed his head politely. "Thank you for having us, Lord Reed. I can understand if you hesitated."

"Not at all." Howland smiled warmly. "Your Father was a good friend, for him it's the least I could do."

Shaking Howland's hand, he greeted the other two before turning back to Howland. "I promise the army won't stay later than dawn tomorrow, but if I could ask for your hospitality for my Mother and Sisters, I would be very grateful."

Howland nodded. "Of course, I shall have some rooms set out for them immediately." He turned to Catelyn. "It's good to see you again after so long, Lady Stark."

"And you, Lord Reed. Was it really my wedding day that I last saw you at?" She asked.

Howland chuckled. "Yes, a wonderful occasion at a terrible time."

Catelyn just nodded. They spoke more small talk for a while, before Howland brought Robb and Catelyn up to his solar. Pouring them a drink of a thin, light green liquid, he handed them both a cup and watched their faces. Chuckling, he drunk a bit himself and explained. "Lizard-lion blood mixed with Pickerel Weed. A delicacy in the Neck I promise you."

Robb nodded once, and tried a sip. Liking the sweet nature of the drink, he had another before setting it down. "I truly am grateful for your help, Lord Howland."

"It's my duty." He told Robb. We lost the Moat when the Ironborn came, it's only right we help retake it. I have 300 archers to send with you, and we've been hard at work searching for the right poisons, so all archers can have numerous poisoned arrows."

"Poisoned arrows?" Cat asked.

"Yes." Howland nodded. "A little secret mix of ours, we'll have the Moat back in no time, especially with the two points of attack."

Robb nodded. "Anyone else and I'd be wary of resorting to such tactics, but the Ironborn have raped and pillaged the North enough. They're a stain on the mainland. They murdered Bran and Rickon, Mother, they deserve to rot in the deepest of the Hells."

Howland remained still, but Catelyn just sighed and nodded. "It's getting late. You should rest if you're heading off tomorrow." She told Robb.

Robb nodded. Finishing his cup, he bade farewell to Howland and Cat and left the room leaving the two old acquaintances to talk.

The next day, Robb bode farewell to his family. Sansa was tearful and Arya was insistent on coming with him. Hugging them both, he soon turned to his Mother.

"I'll send for you once the Moat is secure." He told her. Cat just nodded, her eyes red, and she looked like she'd been crying half the night. "I'll be ok."

"I know." She nodded strongly. With that, he stepped on the small rowboat with Howland and the other nobility that travelled to Greywater Watch and pushed away from the crannog, not noticing the glare that Cat gave towards the back of Howland Reed's head.

* * *

The order came, and Ser Davos immediately tasked 40 ships of the Royal Fleet to leave the blockade and head towards the Dornish coast. His Pirate friend, Salladhor Saan, had told him that the Golden Company had used mercenary fleets to sail across the Narrow Sea, and that they were no longer in Westeros, which benefitted him just fine.

Six days after leaving Estermont, having made sure to stay out of sight of the Dornish coastline, as the light was making way for darkness, Davos sent the signal to begin the attack. A single ship was sent towards the port, where there sat numerous barges all tied together. Next to Davos, his new squire stood tall watching on.

"Why are we only sending one ship in?" Gendry asked.

Davos just held one hand up, silencing him. He was unconvinced at the necessity of this, but the King had insisted. As he saw the ship bump into the barges, causing a small commotion within the residents of Plankytown, he nodded to an archer at the bow of his ship. Dipping an arrow into a brazier, the archer took aim, and after a few seconds of total silence other than the waves lapping at the ships, he fired.

Reminiscent of the Blackwater, Davos watched as the arrow sailed in the air. Thankfully this time he was watching it fly away from him however, and he stared on as it punctured into the boat.

Green flame erupted, and bricks and rocks and metal were flung outwards with unstoppable force. The port lit up in seconds, and then the screaming began.

"Seven Hells…" Gendry whispered in horror. "The King ordered this?"

Davos just nodded. "He wanted to make an example to the Dornish people that he would not be lenient. This port is the main source of trade for Dorne, the logic in taking it is sound."

"Then why are we destroying it?" Gendry asked angrily. "All those people, they didn't choose to follow Viserys. This seems cruel."

"When we get back, I'll let the Lady Shireen teach you about the Dornish Wars." Davos said. The girl had explained a lot about Dorne to him before he left. "The settlements cannot be held, so King Durran wants Plankytown to be a message." He looked on at the scene distastefully however, memories flashing through his mind of Blackwater Bay and Devan.

The Royal Fleet sat there and watched the small Dornish town burn. They stayed anchored just off the mouth of the Greenblood for long enough to watch the fire begin to consume the buildings on land, and die out in the hot sands of Dorne. Three days it burned for, and on the fourth day, Davos noticed that Dornish soldiers were scouring the ruins and escorting the few survivors towards the direction of Sunspear. Deciding enough was enough, he signalled the fastest ship in the fleet to return to the blockade and instruct them to advance.

"What happens now?" Gendry asked, staring at the blackened remains of Plankytown.

"We blockade Sunspear and the Water Gardens." Davos explained. "They are the main seats of Dornish power, and now that Plankytown is ash we need to stop the Dornish from reaching out any way we can.

"We're just letting them sit there? Why not attack?" Gendry asked.

Davos sighed, and told the boy. "Dorne is the base of power for this rebellion. The Vale is contained, Ser Garlan Tyrell is leading the offensive against the rebellious Reach houses but Dorne is strong and whole. If we can starve them out from all sides, then we can break them with hopefully no more Dornish blood spilled. That's His Grace's plan."

* * *

The horn sounded, and Robb Stark watched as the initial shield wall made its way down the causeway. The walls had crumbled on the Northern side of the castle, leaving the way inside fairly clear, although the Ironborn had mounted a small defence. Three by three, the Northmen made their way down the causeway, with shields protecting the front and top of the column. Pikes protruded from between the shields, and it was only the burn to his side that stopped Robb from being right in the middle of it.

From afar, he watched as Rickard Karstark led the Northern forces through the defences, and once the lines were smashed, he grinned as the shield wall broke apart and the Northmen roared forwards, cutting their way through the Ironborn.

He moved forwards with his guard, and arrived at the Moat as the gate was raised and the Southern attackers charged through too. It was a slaughter, 13,000 men attacking a splinter force of around 100 men, and it was over too quickly. Casualties on their side were slim, with only a dozen or so losing their life, but among them were Rickard Karstark and Gregor Forrester.

As Robb was consoling Rodrik Forrester, the Greatjon appeared dragging along an elder, bald Ironborn prisoner. "My Lord, this one claims to have been in command." The Greatjon said, throwing the man to the floor.

Robb stood up regally, and looked down at the Ironborn prisoner. "What is your name."

"Kenning." The man wheezed. "Ralf Kenning."

"Where is Theon Greyjoy?" Robb asked.

"Don't know." The man said. "Stupid cunt took Winterfell and lost it again, not heard from anyone that went there since."

"He must have gone to Deepwood Motte then." Roose Bolton surmised, walking in behind the Greatjon.

Robb nodded. "We will find him soon enough. Fetch me a block." A couple of soldiers grabbed a piece of stone and placed it on the ground. Grabbing the prisoner, they forcefully shoved his neck onto the stone. Robb slowly retrieved Ice from the strapping on his back and placed it point down on the ground, leaning lightly on it as his Father once had done. "In the name of Durran, of the House Baratheon, first of his name. King of the Andals and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Robb of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North do sentence you to die. Will you speak a final word?"

The man didn't make a sound, and so Robb took a step back, swung the Valyrian Steel great sword with all his might and cleaved through the prisoner's neck. The head rolled a few feet, and Robb returned Ice to its sheath. "Throw all the bodies in the Fever, return them to their heathen God." He commanded, before making his way up towards the Gatehouse Tower to rest.


	21. Dawn Brings the Light

Ser Rolland Storm looked out over the gathered army. Banners of Reachmen and Crownlanders outnumbered the Stormlanders by about seven to one, but thankfully, all had the goal of protecting the border. Nightsong had likely never been so busy without an ongoing siege.

Turning around and looking over at the Red Mountains of Dorne, he stared at the imposing stone that his families castle had stood under for millennia, when he heard footsteps from behind him. Turning again, he saw the long, red hair of his half-brother, Lord Bryce Caron.

"Since I was taught as a child about King Daeron bringing Dorne into the Seven Kingdom's, I never thought I'd need to marshal the defences of Nightsong to beat them back." Bryce told him, looking out towards the South. "Yet here we stand, waiting for a host of Dornishmen to appear up the Prince's Pass."

"We will defeat them, My Lord." Rolland told him.

"Oh, I know. Nightsong is strong, and you are a formidable commander." Bryce nodded. "With the host we have gathered, we shall prevail."

"Has Lord Stefan arrived at Blackhaven yet?" Rolland asked.

"He has." Bryce nodded. "Poor lad has been sent when he's a cripple, it would be kinder to send him to the citadel or something, let the younger brother become heir." Rolland said nothing at that, favouring to look out, watching for anything to happen. Bryce continued. "I need you to preside in court with me."

"Me? Why? I'm just a soldier." Rolland shrugged.

"You're also the most imposing man I know." Bryce smiled, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "And we have guests from South of the border."

"Guests?"

"Yes, a boy flying the colours of House Dayne." Bryce said, peaking Rolland's interest.

The pair made their way to the Great Hall of Nightsong. The banner of House Caron, black nightingales on a yellow field, flew all around the Hall, making Rolland feel a twinge of jealousy before he looked at his chest at the inverted colours he had taken as his own and caught himself. Standing at his brother's side, he waited for the doors to open, as a heavily dishevelled sixteen-year-old boy was brought in by guards. He was definitely a Dayne, the silver hair alone gave that away. The boy was thrown at the seat Lord Bryce was sat in.

"You claim you are Lord Edric Dayne, heir to Starfall." Bryce said.

"I am." Edric told him.

"Then as our two nations are at war, why should I not send your head to King Durran now?" Bryce asked. Rolland knew his cues, and showed the boy an inch of steel by unsheathing his sword partially.

The Dayne boy gulped, and said. "In my possessions, there were two notes. They contain the same message, in case we lost one."

One of the guards held two parchments of paper, and Rolland walked down the few stairs to collect them and hand them to his brother. Reading them, quickly, Bryce looked down at the boy. "And what if this is an elaborate plan to infiltrate my castle? What if I don't believe what your Father has written here?"

"Then you are a fool." Edric laughed. "We've exposed ourselves. My Father has risked everything because he knows that what we are doing is right. We are at civil war with High Hermitage because the fucking Darkstar is high on power now that Viserys is invading. I had to climb a mountain and traverse down the other side to get here to be able to warn you of their plans, 22 good men died to get me here. Lord Eddard Stark risked his own life in showing us the honourable way by handing back Dawn after the rebellion, we will do what is right, and that is to join King Durran."

Rolland was impressed, but his judgement meant nothing. Bryce leant back in his seat. "You say you're at civil war with the cadet branch?"

"The Darkstar marched his men to Starfall to pass and meet up with the main host. My Father refused them access." Edric Dayne told them. "I swear by the Seven, we are on King Durran's side."

Bryce gestured for Rolland to lean in closer. "Do you think he's telling the truth?" He whispered lightly. Rolland nodded. The plan made sense to him, and if it was an elaborate hoax to make them relax, then why send the heir and not a cousin? Bryce breathed thoughtfully, and returned to the Dayne boy. "What can you bring us?"

"Knowledge, mainly." Edric admitted to them. "Numbers, which Lords are concerned about the path Prince Doran has chosen, which are content to commit treason. And troop movements."

That interested Rolland. "You know when the Targaryen will be here?" He asked.

Edric Dayne shook his head. "No, because they are focusing all their strength on the Boneway. Blackhaven is their target."

* * *

Robb was yet again frowning at a map of the North. Torrhen's Square and Deepwood Motte were both still under Ironborn occupation, and reports had found him that Winterfell was truly in ruins. Sighing, he made the decision to hold 6,000 men at Winterfell to ensure the rebuilding was completed as quickly as could be achieved. The other 7,000 would be the relief force, first making the trip to relieve the seat of House Tallhart, then to save Lord Robett Glover's wife and children at Deepwood.

Nodding at his idea, he brought his Lords and Ladies into the room to tell them his plan. The Umber's, Manderly's and Frey forces would all travel to Winterfell, while the other Northern Houses would all continue the fight.

"I understand you all want your homes." Robb told them. "And you will soon, I promise you. Once the North is free then I won't keep any of you at Winterfell, but until I have confirmation from Lord Glover that his home is safe, I need the men together, in case we are needed as a relief force."

"Of course, My Lord." The Greatjon nodded. "We'll get Winterfell back to its best in no time."

Thanking everyone, Robb was surprised to hear a knock on the door. Letting the guard enter, he said. "I asked to not be disturbed."

"Sorry m'lord, but there's a party with Stark banners approaching the castle." The guard said. Robb instantly knew what that meant.

"Mother and the girls. Thank you." He said, and the guard bowed and left the room. "You all know the plans. See to it the men are ready and the relief forces can leave as soon as they are ready."

"Yes, My Lord." The Northern bannermen all replied, and Robb was the first to leave the room, swiftly making his way to the gate.

The gate was ordered open, and Robb watched as his Mother, Sansa, Arya and Roslin all rode into the ruined castle. He waited for them to dismount, and greeted them. "My Ladies, I did not expect you all so soon."

"We met Roslin on the way and the Frey's gave us horses." Arya shrugged.

"Arya, remember your courtesies." Cat snapped quietly. "The story is correct though, we are grateful that House Frey could assist us in arriving so swiftly."

"My Lady it seems I am in debt to your House again." Robb smiled at his wife. She shyly smiled back.

"There is no debt, Lord Stark. It was our honour." She said, handing him a sealed letter. "My Father sends his regards."

Robb opened the scroll and grinned. "Errol, see to it that Lady Roslin is settled into the chambers next to mine." He ordered one of the guards. "And find Olyvar, I'm sure my wife would like to catch up with her brother."

Roslin curtseyed, and followed Errol with a number of Frey men, leaving Robb to hug both of his sisters tightly before hugging his Mother.

"The castle is in worse shape than I have ever seen it." Cat sighed, looking around.

"The Ironborn aren't known for maintenance." Robb chuckled. "Anyway, I won't have it unmanned for too long. I plan to have a permanent Lord stationed here."

Cat was surprised. "That's a big ask, not only to get the castle up to scratch and ready, but this is an important stronghold, no Stark has been happy enough to let it out of Stark hands."

"Which is why it will stay in Stark hands." Robb said, turning to Arya. "I know you never wanted this marriage, and I understand I'm asking a lot of you."

"You sold me for a bridge." She reminded him, and Robb sighed.

"I did, but I asked Lord Walder a favour, and he agreed. Your marriage will be matrilineal. Any child that comes from your union will be named Stark." Robb told her. Her eyes looked up at him in surprise, but Sansa beat her to the mark.

"You're naming Arya as Lady of Moat Cailin?" She asked, unhappily.

Robb nodded. "Yes. I am. Moat Cailin is a military stronghold, and once you are 18 you shall come here to be wed, and stay here to rule."

Arya was gobsmacked. "Why? Why me?"

"Because you've always wanted your own castle, and this way we can keep our deal with the Frey's. You will come back to Winterfell and learn from both myself and Mother to ensure you are capable, and Olyvar Frey will act as your castellan for the moment, until you can decide for yourself." Robb told her. Arya grinned, and caught him in a tight embrace.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Robb gestured to the castle. "Now, go with Mother and learn the layout of your castle." He laughed, as Arya nodded and grabbed Cat's hand, dragging her away. Robb turned to look at the extremely unhappy Sansa. "I know you're unhappy."

"She's never wanted to be a Lady." Sansa snapped. "Yet she gets the castle, the husband. She gets everything."

Robb sighed. "I know. Moat Cailin is for a military mind though Sansa, and your path is much different to that of Arya's. You were never meant to be militant, you were made for the South and with Lord Willas you'll have your dreams too."

Sansa nodded. "I understand that. It's just… why is life so unfair?" She sniffed, tears forming. "All I ever wanted was to meet my Prince, and be a loyal wife. When I meet my Prince he's cruel, he's vicious and he beats me. Father died because of me wanting to live my dreams."

By now she was in floods of tears. Robb brought her into his arms and held her close. Letting Sansa get her emotions out he waited, until he thought she was ready to talk again. "Listen, things happened in the past and we cannot change them. I wish I hadn't have been pressured into crowning myself King, thousands of lives would have been saved. I wish I'd have been able to get to the Capital in time to save Father, I wish I hadn't have needed Jaime fucking Lannister to save me from dragon fire. We can't dwell on the past sweet sister, only the future."

Sansa sniffed and nodded. "And what's my future?"

Robb smiled at her. "Remember, you are to be Lady Paramount of the Reach. The most chivalrous, noble Kingdom in Westeros. Willas may not be a Prince, but King Durran assures me he is a good man."

"Margaery did too." Sansa admitted.

"There you have it. You will be cared for, in the Kingdom you were made for." Robb smiled. "Until then, you can do whatever you like. You've had a rough time, your future, for the most part, is yours to decide."

Sansa nodded, and after a moment of thinking said. "I'll learn from Mother. I don't want to go down to Highgarden and know nothing about running households, I want to be the best. To show the Tyrell's that House Stark is impressive in every way."

"Then I would be delighted to have you performing duties as one of the Ladies of Winterfell." Robb told her. "You can help Roslin learn the layout of the castle too, know where to go for her dresses and cloaks, and you can be her friend. She'll need a friend."

Sansa nodded, and Robb grinned at her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, the two siblings fell into small conversation, something they hadn't done since they were both much younger.

* * *

Stefan could hear the songs of the Marcher Houses from high above the camp. Standing on the ramparts of Blackhaven with Lord Beric. He chuckled as numerous competitions were going on, to boost the spirits of the 8,000 men camped on the Dornish side of the castle.

Stefan looked out at the plains between the mountains. In the far distance was Dorne and the Boneway, a path between the Red Mountains that would be the route the Golden Company would take. Stefan would have liked more men, but Nightsong needed manning as well, and Blackhaven had survived worse odds.

He had left the marshalling of the defences to Lord Beric as it was his castle. Men manned a number of watchtowers heading towards the Boneway, and the majority of the men would do battle outside the castle before retreating inwards to withstand a siege. The Stormlands had been kind, and they had enough provisions for two years.

"I've always admired the Marcher Lords." Stefan said, trying to take his mind off of the battle ahead. "For so long you've held the Dornish back. You must be proud."

"Aye, it's a simple existence for sure. We have one job really." Beric said. "For decades however we've not needed to, I'm sure the castle is itching to see another fight." Stefan held his gaze sternly, trying not to let his nerves show. He failed, however. "It's ok to be nervous, My Lord." Beric told him.

"My first battle, if you could call it that, I lost my arm." He scoffed.

"And now you have a formidable weapon." Beric told him. "My House was founded through luck, as a bolt of lightning allowed my ancestor to escape death. I believe in it more than anything. You survived for a reason, and you will do again."

Nodding, Stefan was about to quiz Beric on House Dondarrion's history when a horn erupted from the Southernmost watchtower. Stefan squinted to try and see anything, but couldn't see more than specs. Beric handed him a far-eye though, and Stefan looked through to see great grey beasts arrive through the pass in single file.

"Elephants." Beric said, alarmed. "Fucking elephants."

Stefan felt ill. "We need your best archers. Aim for the eyes."

Beric nodded and turned to a guard. "Fetch Anguy, tell him to take his group to the old Cole watchtower and aim for the eyes."

Letting Beric organise his defences, Stefan stayed in place, counting. It took about three hours, but the Golden Company with a host of Dornish banners finally stopped and began setting up camp.

"I count 20 elephants, 23,000 men." Stefan said, handing Beric the far-eye.

"Aye." He agreed after a few moments. "We're outmatched here My Lord."

"We can hold them off. I'll send a raven to Lord Caron and the King to move all forces here." Stefan said.

Rushing off, he found the Maester and let the man use his seal to send the messages. Looking outside the window at the gathered enemy host in the distance, Stefan grimaced. War was upon them.

* * *

"Thank you, Maester." Dany smiled at the young man that had just checked her pregnancy. He smiled back, and collected his tools before moving past Ser Perwyn Frey and leaving the room. Dany let a handmaiden dress her appropriately again before standing before the Kingsguard knight. "I must meet with Lady Melisandre." She told him. Ser Perwyn just nodded, letting Dany lead the way.

They walked a fair way, before Dany decided to strike up conversation. "Your new sigil. A single white tower on blue, it's not your Father's sigil is it?"

"No, Your Grace. It was decided I should take a new sigil after I was appointed to the Kingsguard." He told her. "This white tower shows my families, both old and new."

"The tower draped in white." Dany whispered, spooked.

"Your Grace?" Ser Perwyn asked. Dany stared into space, not moving. "Your Grace?" He repeated louder.

Shaking her head, Dany focused again. "I'm sorry, Ser. Something the Lady told me before Brindlewood. She predicted your appointment it seems." Ser Perwyn nodded nonchalantly, amusing Dany. "You don't believe in predicting the future?"

"If I may speak freely?"

"Of course." Dany nodded.

"I think that predictions of that sort are nonsense, and when people hear their futures, in trying to change it they themselves make it happen." He told her.

Dany nodded. "An interesting theory, still, I ask you to suspend your disbelief for the moment. The Lady has power for sure, and all of her predictions come true."

Ser Perwyn nodded uneasily, but the pair resumed their walk until they arrived at the door to Melisandre's room. Ser Perwyn knocked on the door. "Her Grace, Queen Daenerys would like to speak with you." He announced.

Not a moment later, the door opened to reveal Lady Melisandre. Smiling knowingly, she let the two into the basic room. "Your Grace, how may I be of assistance?"

"You told me the future." Dany said quickly. "You predicted that Renly would die, Shireen would end up marrying Lord Edmure and that Ser Perwyn here would be on the Kingsguard."

"I saw visions yes, I didn't know the exact meanings until they came to pass." She smirked. "You would like to know more." It wasn't a question.

"I want to know what mine meant, if mine meant anything." Dany whispered. "The Golden Dragon."

"You already know the answer to that, Your Grace." Melisandre told her.

Dany nodded slowly. "The Golden Dragon, it's Viserys, isn't it?"

Melisandre nodded. "I heard a story that the lost Prince convinced the Golden Company into dropping a contract with the Free City Myr against the remaining Daughters, Lys and Tyrosh." She explained.

"The Golden Dragon dropping the girl." Dany whispered, inspired. "I saw that. I saw the future?"

Melisandre nodded again. "You are High Valyrian, Your Grace. Fire is in your blood, and you have hatched Dragons, the creature of fire. You are the very embodiment of all R'hllor stands for. You are Azor Ahai reborn."

"Azor Ahai?" Dany asked, rubbing her heavily pregnant belly.

"There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him." Melisandre told her. "I believe that this speaks of you. A woman born of salt and smoke, hatching Dragons from cold stone. Your Dragon is Lightbringer, and you will save us all."

* * *

It was rare that Durran got a few hours to himself now. With the war escalating and his Kingly duties being extended after the breakdown of the Regency, Durran barely got a chance to relax. Finding a rare couple of hours, he took Ser Arys down to the training yard and the two began to spar.

Durran swung Stormbringer around his head and brought the flat side down onto Ser Arys' shield forcefully, before spinning quickly and driving a blow into the other side of the Kingsguard, who parried it away with considerable effort. Remaining on the attack, Durran brought blow after blow down upon the shield and sword of Ser Arys, before feinting an attack up high, and bringing the flat side of the great sword down onto the side of Ser Arys' shin. The Kingsguard knight was thrown off of his feet, and Durran held the sword one handed towards his neck.

"I yield." Ser Arys panted. "That blasted sword is formidable."

"It's not the sword that's formidable, Ser Arys, it's the wielder." Ser Barristan said from a balcony. "Although the needless showing off will go, Your Grace."

"Showing off?" Durran asked, panting.

"Never turn your back on your opponent." Ser Barristan said strictly, making his way down to the pair. "Ser Arys is still not fully recovered, but an opponent at full capability would take advantage of that spin."

"I apologise, Lord Commander." Durran said honestly. "I thought it would look good."

"Looking good is less important than staying alive." Ser Barristan said sternly. Durran nodded. "Although your strength looks to be improving, you can hold Stormbringer in a single hand?"

"Not for long, and not truly in a fight." Durran told him.

"Practice. Build more core strength and that will be a formidable asset." Ser Barristan explained. "You're as strong, if not stronger, than King Robert was at this age I'm sure."

Durran looked up, surprised. "You knew my Father before the war?"

Barristan nodded. "I met him once as a near adult, at the Tourney in Lannisport." He said. "I'll tell you about it another time, Your Grace. Your Mother is here." He said, nodding back up to the balcony where Cersei and Myrcella were walking towards. Nodding, Durran let Ser Arys strap Stormbringer to the King's back and the three men walked up to greet Durran's family.

"Mother, Sister." Durran smiled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Myrcella handed him a goblet of water. "I thought you'd need this."

Grinning, Durran took it and quickly gulped down the liquid. "Thank you." He said.

"You looked good out there. As strong as your Father." Cersei told him.

"It feels good to train again. I'll need it with what's coming." He grimaced. "House Rowan and their vassals have joined House Florent in rebellion. Ser Arys' Mother has sent a force to besiege Goldengrove."

"Troubling news." Cersei nodded. "I'm sure Lady Arwyn will prevail however."

"Ser Arys' brother, Lord Olyvaris leading and Garlan Tyrell is leading the Tyrell forces down to Brightwater Keep, things in the Reach will stabilise soon." Durran said. "It's Dorne that worries me."

"Have you heard any more?" Myrcella asked, intrigued.

"You shouldn't be forced to hear my worries sister, tell me, how goes your studies?" Durran asked.

Myrcella scoffed. "You don't care about that." She said. "I can help with Dorne."

"How?" Cersei asked amusedly. "You are smart my love, but you are barely 13 years of age."

"Doesn't Prince Doran have a son around my age?" Myrcella asked. Cersei looked to complain, but Durran got their first.

"No." He snapped. "I will not marry you off to a traitor's seed. When you marry, it will be someone good who will allow you to thrive. I will not marry you to goat fuckers."

His raise in tone alarmed Myrcella. "I'm only trying to help." She told him.

"And you can by acting like you are, happy. Making me forget there's a war on." Durran forced a smiled down at her. "You are a light in the darkness for me, sister."

Myrcella smiled softly. "Fine, but I'll need to wed eventually and you know it." She then nodded to Ser Arys and began skipping away. Chuckling, Durran nodded to the knight too, and he walked off after her leaving Cersei.

"She's right." She sighed. "She will need to wed eventually."

"Not for many years yet." Durran told her. "There is only one Lord with the standing I'd accept for Myrcella that's unwed."

Cersei frowned. "That boy will die before he reaches an age. Whether it's by illness or by plotting."

"So long as it's not you doing the plotting." Durran told her strongly. "I've not properly decided yet, but if we can bring peace in the Vale, it makes sense. And he's mouldable so long as we get him away from his Mother."

Cersei sighed. "How is the Queen doing?" She asked, changing the topic.

Durran grinned. "Soon you shall be a Grandmother, no more than a month, I am certain."

Cersei smiled genuinely. "I look forward to it. I know it's bad timing, but a child will make you fight all the more."

"I'm nervous." Durran admitted, linking his arm with Cersei's. "With Joffrey, he was a tyrant. I knew he needed to be deposed and that made it simple. With Robb, I can understand his view and he didn't actually rebel against me, then he got arrogant and only surrendered because we had the Dragons. Now though? I can't use Dragons in case one of them is swayed by Viserys. I have enemies in the Vale, the Reach and Dorne and I barely have enough men from the last two wars to counter the Golden Company. I'm worried we'll lose, and I'm worried what my child will be subjected to if we do."

Cersei stroked his arm soothingly. "You're right to be nervous, but never be afraid. We are lions. You command the respect of most of the Realm, and fighting with your men as Stark did only heightens that. You are well trained, you are strong but above all you are smart. Use that. Dictate this war on your terms, don't react, set the tone."

Durran nodded. "We've done that with the blockade, but that won't be effective until the long run. In the short term, I know one of the Marcher castles will fall."

"Then pre-empt it." Cersei told him. "Gather your men and move for Fawnton. Camp there until you hear anything from the South and then move. The castles are strong, they can hold out longer than you think and by that time you will have the might of the Reach alongside you."

Durran nodded. "It's a good plan. I'll see it happen."

"I learnt some things from your Grandfather." Cersei said jovially.

They took a turn towards the gardens, and began strolling through there. Conversation turned back to the baby.

"We haven't really thought of names." Durran shrugged. "Too much has happened."

"A son must have a strong, commanding name." She explained. "Joffrey, he was named after the first Andal King of the Rock."

"Joffrey Lydden?" Durran asked.

"Later Joffrey Lannister, taking his wife's name." Cersei nodded. "You, well your Father named you after Godsgrief, a strong name in the Baratheon and Durrandon line."

"And Tommen? I assume he wasn't named after the King who lost Brightroar." Durran grinned.

Cersei chuckled. "No, after Tommen the First. My point is it must be a name that means something to others so they look upon him as a symbol. So he commands respect."

Durran nodded. "We want something that ties our houses together in a way nothing can break this new bond between Stag and Dragon. A name that shows the history of both Houses."

Cersei nodded. "Then there is only one name that fits that."

Durran agreed. "But Orys, I'm not sure."

Cersei chuckled. "Talk to your wife about it. Make a list of names that have meant something through History and find one that fits."

"And what if it's a girl?" Durran asked.

Cersei thought. "You need a name that commands beauty and elegance. I wouldn't worry though, for generations House Baratheon has always had a son as their firstborn."

Durran nodded, his mind racing with names from history as his impending date with Fatherhood ticked ever closer.


	22. The Seed is Strong

The full Small Council were in session. Durran sat in the King's seat half listening to the problems that had arisen, and half willing to be elsewhere.

"A battle was had outside Blackhaven. 2,000 men were lost and Lord Stefan has pulled back into the castle. They are now under bombardment from the Golden Company but they are holding." Randyll Tarly read one note, before picking up another. "And Brightwater Keep is being sieged by Garlan Tyrell."

"A very capable commander, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell stated proudly. "He will have the castle in no time."

Durran nodded. "Good, we need as many problems dealt with as we can. Tell him that any surviving members of the House are to be brought here."

"Your Grace." Mace Tyrell nodded.

"And what will become of Brightwater Keep?" Stannis asked.

Durran thought, and Mace Tyrell popped up. "If Garlan is the one to win the castle…"

"My wife is Lord Alester's eldest daughter. The castle should fall to her." Randyll Tarly stated.

Durran gripped the table. "House Florent has forfeited all right to land in my Kingdom. I apologise Lord Tarly but Lord Tyrell has a point. The closest vassals to your lands will now fall under your rule, but the castle and remaining vassals will remain sworn to Brightwater Keep. Ser Garlan will henceforth be raised to Lordly status, and be granted Brightwater Keep." He told them all. Randyll Tarly didn't look happy, but accepted it.

"Write that down, Grand Maester." Stannis told the old man, who fumbled around for a moment before doing as he was bid. Once the letter was finished, Durran sealed it with his personal seal and put it to one side.

"Any news from the Vale?" He asked.

Varys nodded. "The armies are due to meet within the week in the Vale of Arryn."

"Who will win?" Devan Lannister asked.

Varys shifted uncomfortable. "Baelish has the numbers…"

Durran swore in his mind. "Then we must assume he will win the battle. Make sure Lord Tully knows that Lord Royce is an ally and if they make it out of the Vale, to join forces together."

Varys nodded. Minor matters of state were decided after that, but the Council meeting was interrupted when Lady Melisandre entered the room.

The mood darkened, Varys scowled ferociously at the Red Priestess, while Stannis stared at a spot on the table. Durran looked annoyed too.

"What is it?" He asked her impatiently.

"I apologise, my King." She said sweetly. "But I have been sent from the Queen's chambers. It's over."

* * *

Not remembering the last time Durran had rushed this quickly, the King made it to his chambers in Maegor's Holdfast in record time, bursting through the doors as soon as he arrived. He was met, however, with a sharp shushing by his Mother.

"Quiet." She scolded, quietly. She nodded towards Dany, who had her eyes closed and was being seen too by Maesters. Durran's eyes widened, as he moved to her side. Kneeling, he gripped her hand in his, a tear falling from his eye.

"Her Grace needs rest. This labour was hard on her, but she will survive." A Maester said quietly. Choking out a breath, Durran couldn't contain his smile, gently kissing her hand.

"Come here, let her rest." Cersei said. Nodding, Durran got to his feet. He noticed the doors had been closed, with his Kingsguard staying outside. Grateful, Durran walked over to his Mother, who held a bundle of black cloth in her arms. She moved to sit in a seat on the balcony, as Durran sat next to her. Cersei showed him how to hold the baby, before handing the bundle over.

"You have a daughter." She said proudly, tears forming in her eyes as Durran held his child for the first time.

He stared down at her, a tuft of black hair on her head, and the richest blue eyes looking back up at him. Durran smiled softly down at her, moving an arm to stroke her cheek with his pinkie. Gurgling, his daughter moved an arm and gripped his pinkie tightly, making Durran laugh happily.

"She's strong." He grinned.

Cersei nodded. "As were you. A true Baratheon."

Durran couldn't take his eyes off of his daughter. Memorising this moment as the brisk autumn sunlight gently lighting up her face. "She's perfect. Utterly perfect."

Cersei couldn't help but grin. Standing, she came over and kissed her son on the top of the head. "She looks like her Mother, I find."

"That's probably why she's perfect." Durran laughed. "Is this how you felt with Joffrey and I?"

He didn't see Cersei's nervous look, as she remembered her actions when her twins were born. Instead she said. "Of course, the birth of your children always feels like this."

Remembering his siblings, Durran made to get up. Carrying his daughter carefully, he kicked on the door to the room to get someone to open it. Ser Barristan and Stannis were the other side.

"Your Grace." Stannis said.

"A girl." He smiled. "Both Mother and child are healthy." Ser Barristan let out a large grin, and even Stannis smiled, an unnerving sight with his blind eye twinkling in torchlight, though Durran couldn't care. Durran continued. "Uncle, can you get a message to the Sept of Baelor to ring the bells, to announce the Princess. Ser Barristan, fetch Princess Myrcella and Lord Tommen."

The two nodded and saw to their tasks. Not ten minutes later and the doors opened, as Myrcella and Tommen were escorted in to the room.

"Is Dany ok?" Tommen asked.

Durran nodded. "Just resting, come over to the balcony."

They all moved over, and Durran sat down letting Myrcella fawn over the baby.

"She's so precious." She swooned. "Look at her."

The baby began to smile as Myrcella fussed over her, and Durran chuckled. "Come here Tommen, come and meet your niece." He said. The 12-year-old sat on the arm of the chair.

"She's tiny." He noted. Durran chuckled.

"She would be, my love." Cersei told him. "She will grow though."

"I won't have to marry her, will I?" He asked, grimacing. Durran's eyes fell in a frown at the thought of anyone marrying this precious bundle, but Myrcella laid a hand on his shoulder and answered.

"No silly, you need to marry a girl from the West." She told him.

"I don't want to marry anyone!" He cried. Cersei shushed him.

"Nobody is marrying anyone right now." Durran told them. They fell into silence as the baby began to coo. The bells began ringing at that moment, and the family all looked out to the Sept of Baelor.

"We have a new heir." Cersei smiled.

"Not quite." Durran told them. "The succession laws of the Crown remain as Agnatic Primogeniture, and since Tommen is now Lord Lannister and has abdicated, my heir is still Uncle Stannis."

Cersei was about to argue, but a noise came from behind them. "Durran." Came the quiet voice of Dany from the bed. Carefully, he made his way over to her.

"My Queen." He grinned. "Thank you. She's perfect."

Dany had propped herself up on pillows, and Durran carefully handed the baby over to her as his family filed in and stood around the bed. Durran sat on the side, his hand resting on her arm carefully. Dany smiled down at the small baby, stroking her cheek. "Elaenor. She's Elaenor." She said.

Letting the name fill his head as he stared at his daughter, Durran nodded. "Elaenor Baratheon. I like it."

"Princess Elaenor." Myrcella said happily.

The Maester came back through the door then, and cleared his throat. "I apologise, Your Grace, but the Queen must rest now, and Ser Jaime is asking for an update."

Nodding, Durran kissed Dany on the cheek and told her. "I'll be back later." He promised. Dany nodded, and captured his lips in a long kiss. Grinning, he helped shepherd his siblings out, though Cersei insisted on staying. Picking Tommen up and throwing the squealing Lord over his shoulder, he made his way out of the room, the happiest he had felt in a very, very long time.

* * *

After sparring with Olyvar and finalising the march back up to Winterfell, Robb made his way back to his chambers to change out of his armour and into more Lordly clothing. Reaching his wife's chambers next to his, he heard voices.

"…my youngest siblings were born. Lady Annara was the same." The quiet voice of his wife said.

"This happens, it's nothing to be ashamed of." His Mother's voice came. His interest peaked, he listened on. "I was the same with Robb. I worried, I cried, I thought I was dying. It wasn't until my Father, bless his soul as he was badly injured at the time, sat me down and explained everything to me. My Mother had been through six pregnancies, he understood."

Robb's eyes widened, as Roslin responded. "I'm just scared." She whispered, just loud enough for Robb to hear. "My Father was never there for my Mother, or any of his wives during pregnancy or childbirth."

Opening the door, Robb made himself known to the two women. Shock crept on to Roslin's face, but Robb couldn't stop grinning. Catelyn stood up, to greet Robb, but Robb only had eyes for Roslin.

"What I just heard. Are you certain?" He asked her. Roslin nodded, happy tears forming in her eyes.

Catelyn nodded also. "Lady Roslin came to me with suspicions a few days ago. We went to the Maester to confirm it, and the symptoms are intensifying."

"You're not angry, are you?" Roslin asked.

Robb looked bemused. "Angry?" He asked, moving towards her. He knelt at her feet, taking her hands in his and kissing them both. "My Lady, you're carrying my child. Our child. I could never be angry with that."

She choked back a sob, and brought his hands up to her belly. Robb didn't notice the door close again, but after a brief kiss with Roslin he noticed that the room had emptied again, and the two kissed once more, with clothes leaving their bodies as they went.

* * *

The remaining forces of the Riverlands had been camped by the border of the Vale along the High Road for a number of weeks, and all it turned out to be for now was a simple blockade of the road. Edmure had the Riverland Houses rotate the duty of letting people out of the Vale, while all access into it was blocked by order of the King.

Not much happened, other than a few issues with the age-old enemies of House Bracken and Blackwood, but Edmure was fast learning how to ease tensions between his tense Lords, and winning the loyalty of his new bannermen. The Blackfish helped where he could, but it had taken the reminder of Lord Hoster's death to shake Edmure into growing up a bit. Not that he had grown up entirely, as shown by the niece of the old landlady of the Inn at the Crossroads currently in his bed.

The tent flaps flew open, and the Blackfish walked in before looking at the two in the bed and shaking his head. "Get up."

Edmure stretched, and sat up. "What is it?" He asked annoyed. "I have company."

The Blackfish looked angry now. "I can see that, but your whore is less important than the banners of House Royce fleeing the Vale. I trust you remember what the King asked of you weeks ago." With that he stepped outside.

Nodding, Edmure got out of bed, stirring the woman. "Jeyne, I must leave for the moment." He told her gently.

The tall brunette nodded. "I should head back to the inn today anyway m'lord." She said. Edmure didn't want her too, but nodded.

"I'll likely be fighting soon so yes." He agreed. "I'll come back that way though, I promise."

Jeyne chuckled. "As m'lord says."

Edmure let her help him put his scaled armour on properly, before strapping his sword belt to his waist. He gave the nude girl a long kiss, before slapping her arse jovially and walking outside, where the Blackfish was stood waiting.

They began to walk to the far end of the camp, where the blockade to the High Road was. Edmure could tell the Blackfish didn't approve. "I'm not married yet." He told his uncle.

"You're betrothed to the cousin of the King, to the daughter of Stannis Baratheon." The Blackfish replied. "Be smarter than this."

Edmure let out a sharp laugh. "A girl I won't see for likely another year that's cursed with Greyscale. Am I to remain celibate until I meet her?"

Brynden turned around and pointed his finger sharply in Edmure's chest. "You are the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands now. All of these men around you look up to you. If you want to act like a spoilt child whoring your way through life, then these men will respect you almost as much as they do Aegon the Unworthy. If you don't start taking responsibility for your new duties and role, then who knows, a Tyrell child of your niece could hold Riverrun one day at the request of your own men."

Edmure stared back at his Uncle, rage in his eyes. "You forget yourself Ser." He said coldly, before moving along swiftly. The Blackfish stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"All I do, I do to help you and your sisters." He said, a pained. "For your Mother, may the Seven give her peace."

Calming down, Edmure nodded. Understanding his Uncle's pain, he clapped his Uncle on the shoulder and they both made their way towards the oncoming Vale army.

The Riverland forces had mobilised, so if things turned sour a defensive battle would likely take place. Mounting a horse and placing himself next to his Uncle and Lord Jason Mallister, he waited for the Vale forces to march down the High Road and prove to him they were the loyalists. He spotted banners of Houses Royce, Waynwood, Hunter, Belmore and Redfort along with minor vassals, but the Blackfish moved unnerved on his horse.

"Not even a third of the Vale Houses." He grimaced, causing Edmure to frown. He saw the famous armour of the Bronze Yohn, and trotted forwards, with his parlay party with him. Stepping forwards for the Vale were Lord Royce, the heir to House Waynwood, Ser Morton, and Ser Eustace Hunter.

"My Lords." Edmure greeted.

"Lord Edmure." Lord Royce replied. "We were told by King Durran to join our forces to yours. I'm sorry we couldn't bring more men."

Edmure nodded. "What is done is done, My Lord. Join your forces to ours and we shall have enough men to bring down Littlefinger and to free my sister from his grasp. Share our camp and let your men rest well. Your commanders may join us in the War tent. Tell us all."

Nodding, Lord Royce turned and shouted at his men to set up camp behind the barricades, as Rivermen allowed the Vale forces to traipse into the camp. Edmure made his way to the War tent, where a large map of Southern Westeros was placed on a table, with figures dotting various positions. Briefly picking up the fish of House Tully, the tent opened again, as the three men at the Parlay entered the tent with Lord Belmore and Ser Symond Templeton, along with some other Riverlords. Wine was brought for them all.

Edmure gestured to Lord Royce to begin his tale, and the gruff knight moved some of the pieces in the Vale, so one Vale piece was sat next to the trout, and two were sat at the Gates of the Moon.

"We were lucky we had the Bloody Gate." He explained. "Our forces met Littlefinger's in the Vale of Arryn, but we underestimated him. Somehow, he's convinced Lady Lysa and all of the other Houses in the Vale that we wish to see Robin Arryn dead. They outnumbered us and broke us."

"How many men did you lose?" Lord Bracken asked.

"5,000 in the battle, give or take. We didn't stop to do a true count." Ser Morton said, a scab over his eye. "My brother Donnel took another 3,000 to block our escape at the Gates of the Moon." He said sadly.

"My Father and Gilwood are dead too." Ser Eustace said angrily. "My fucking brother Harlan killed them. Hunter fought Hunter."

"So, what of House Grafton?" The Blackfish asked. "The ships?"

Lord Royce began to grin. "The one bit of good news we have. As men were amassing, my son Andar took a squad in at the dead of night and sunk them."

Edmure was taken aback. "All of them?"

Lord Belmore scoffed. "There wasn't many big enough for transporting troops anyway, maybe 20? A fine feat nonetheless." The overweight Lord grinned.

"Fantastic news." Edmure grinned. "They have to come through here to have any impact on the war then."

"That's what we'll have to do." Lord Royce told them. "I can't imagine Littlefinger won't have taken back the Bloody Gate, it's too valuable."

Thinking, Edmure tried to work out a way of forcing Baelish out. Lord Jason Mallister got there ahead of him however. "What if we send word to King's Landing? Ask the Queen to join us with her dragons."

Edmure shook his head. "The Queen is recovering from childbirth, Lord Mallister. I doubt she can help us here."

"An heir?" Ser Morton asked. "Healthy, I hope?"

Edmure nodded, having forgotten the Valemen wouldn't have heard. "Not an heir, but a healthy baby girl. Princess Elaenor."

Ser Morton grinned, and held his glass up. "To the Princess." A toast was quickly said, before the Blackfish continued with the war council.

"Asking for the Dragon's help though, we saw how powerful they were at Sow's Horn." He stated. Edmure's face fell in sorrow.

"Ser Ronald Vance was nothing but ash afterwards." He scowled, missing his friend.

"Ronald the Bad?" Lord Belmore asked, causing Edmure to glare daggers at the man.

"My friend." Edmure told them. "The idea is a good one, if a single Dragon can destroy half of an army in a few moments, the Bloody Gate can be taken too. My Lords, Sers, I'm sure you could all do with your rest. We can reconvene in the morning and I shall send His Grace a raven."

* * *

Ser Garlan Tyrell strode through the courtyard of Brightwater Keep with a small honour guard, trying not to look at the number of dead bodies in both Tyrell and Florent armour littered around the castle. The battle had been long and tiring, but finally House Florent had been subdued with only minor damage to the castle. He himself had killed three members of the House in the battle. He made his way into the hall of Brightwater Keep and sat himself in the Lords chair.

A moment later, and the remaining members of House Florent were brought into the room. Lord Alester, his brother Ser Axell and their nephew, Ser Imry. Being forced to their knees, they looked up at Garlan.

"You all stand accused of treason." He began. "Joining forces with the usurper and exile Viserys Targaryen rather than your rightful King. Lord Alester, how do you plead?"

"Usurper?" The stouter of the three cried. "King Viserys is the rightful King you up jumped steward! Fuck you and fuck your King."

"Axell, silence." Lord Alester snapped.

"No, brother. We are dead anyway." Axell Florent laughed bitterly. "Have my head here boy, but our cause is just and the Reach will see you all for what you are." With that he spat at the feet of Garlan, who sighed and nodded to one of his guards. Axell Florent was hauled upwards onto his feet and taken outside. Garlan let silence fall in the room, and they heard the axe swing that cleaved off Axell Florent's head. Waiting a bit longer, a guard brought the head into the hall, blood dripping from the severed neck, and threw it at the knees of Lord Alester.

"Can we settle this like men now, rather than petulant children?" Garlan asked. "How do you plead?"

"I stand by my decision, Ser Garlan." Lord Alester told them. "It was my decision alone to reclaim the reach for the true heirs of House Gardener and mine alone. Let my nephew go."

Garlan stood, and walked over towards Lord Alester, carefully side stepping the bleeding head of Axell Florent. "It was your decision yes, and you know your life is already forfeit. But your family fought for you, and for that they must suffer the decision of the Crown. You are both to be escorted to King's Landing to stand trial for your crimes."

"What of my nephew, Merrell? He's a captive in the Arbor." Alester asked.

"You should have thought about that when you rebelled." Garlan said sharply. "This is a decree from King Durran, of the House Baratheon. It states that your lands are forfeit for your crime, and any male member of House Florent currently residing elsewhere will be taken to Highgarden to serve House Tyrell. Brightwater Keep is to be given to House Tyrell, and any vassals will henceforth be split, being either vassals of House Tarly or vassals of House Tyrell of Brightwater Keep, from this day until the end of days."

"Usurper." Imry spat weakly. "You, you mean."

"I have been granted the castle by King Durran, yes." Garlan told him. "This wasn't the way to go about things, Ser Alester. Surely you can see this rebellion was always doomed?"

Alester looked up at Garlan darkly. "I expected more Houses to join us and our cause, yes I'll admit that. But this rebellion is far from over. King Viserys is gaining access to the Stormlands as we speak, and the Vale has been won. You can take my lands, titles, and families lives, but in the end, we shall be victorious."

Hearing enough, Garlan sighed. "Take them away. Feed them and send them with a guard to King's Landing immediately." He commanded. Watching them head off, he sighed and looked around at his new castle hall, already making plans to join his forces with those at Blackhaven.


	23. Plight of the Mockingbird

The weeks since Elaenor had been born seemed to have flown by. News was sparse on the war front, with Blackhaven being sieged from the South and the River forces blockading the High Road, it gave Durran time to spend with his daughter. The Princess had had a crib made of the finest steel painted black and gold, as the House colours on her blanket. Daenerys was currently placing her down in the crib, having just fed her.

Durran was gazing down at her, as Elaenor stared up at him with her blue eyes, holding a soft toy lion given by Cersei that had once been Myrcella's. He watched as her eyes slowly closed, as the baby fell asleep.

Dany sidled up to him, and Durran reached out and hugged her into his chest. "I can't stop just looking at her when she sleeps." Dany whispered.

"Me either." Durran chuckled softly. "How did we create something so precious?"

Smiling, Dany melted further into his embrace. "We let love dictate our lives, rather than our families hate. That has to have helped."

The door opened quietly, and Jaime Lannister walked in. Dany immediately walked away to brush her hair away from the Kingsguard knight, but Durran walked over to greet him.

"She's still not comfortable with me then?" Jaime asked.

Durran rolled his eyes. "Do you blame her?"

Jaime shook his head. "I suppose not. A raven came for you, Your Grace. From the Riverlands."

Intrigued, Durran took the rolled-up parchment and broke the seal, unfurling it to read. "The loyalists lost the battle but burnt the ships… met up with Lord Edmure and request… they can't be serious?"

"Your Grace?" Jaime asked.

Laughing, Durran said. "They request the Queen aid them in taking the Bloody Gate with the Dragons. They request a Dragon."

"It's a smart plan actually." Jaime acknowledged. "It's impassable by land, but from the air, melting the gates…"

"I shall ask the Queen, but it's only been weeks since the birth…" Durran said. "Thank you, Ser Jaime."

Bowing his head, Jaime left the room, and Durran went over to Dany once more. Standing behind her, he let her brush her hair vigorously. "I'm sorry." She said eventually.

"For what?" Durran asked.

"I just can't… not with him." She sighed. "I know what my Father was, but I just can't look at him without feeling such rage within me."

Durran understood. "I get that." He said. "He is a part of my family though, however twisted his relationship with my Mother is. Being Kingsguard as well…"

"I know." Dany interrupted. "What did he want?" Durran showed her the message, and after reading it Dany just sighed.

"You've given birth not long ago, you can say no. I can travel up to the Saltpans by ship with a small force…" Durran began, but Dany interrupted.

"No, it's ok." She said. "I can be there and back in a day on Rhaellar so long as we leave early. Cersei can look after Elle."

Durran had to double take as soon as she said that. "You'd trust Mother with our baby? Alone?"

Dany chuckled and lightly hit his arm. "Funnily enough yes. We didn't get on eye to eye at first and I was sure she was trying to have me killed at one point, but since Elle was born she's been good to me, kind even. She cares about family above all else and that's clear to see."

Durran nodded. "If you are sure. I'm coming with you."

Dany nodded. "You know your High Valyrian, right?"

" **Of course I do, I've been in love with you for years. I had to learn.** " Durran said, rolling his eyes.

Chuckling again, Dany said. "Then I'll leave Dārys up there with strict instructions to listen to you. Hopefully that will work. He's the biggest, and likely the most useful in a war."

Still sceptical, Durran added. "Will that work? I have Valyrian blood somewhere I know, but if he fails to listen to me…"

Dany stood and turned to face him. Placing her hands on his chest she said. "The blood magic used to hatch them… I can't explain it properly but whatever Lady Melisandre did, they're a lot calmer and obedient than the stories make out."

Thinking, Durran nodded his head. "Fine. We best prepare then, I want this mess in the Vale over with as soon as possible. The true threat still lies southwards."

* * *

Durran and Ser Arys watched as Dany flew away on Rhaellar, the goodbye still in his mind. He hated the fact that he had to go back to war again, but for his daughter to be safe, he knew he had to crush any form of rebellion that faced him.

He looked around at the gathered forces around him and focused. The Vale Lords were still looking up in awe as Dany grew smaller in the sky, but Edmure Tully looked worried to see Dārys behind Durran, settling onto the ground tucking into a couple of goats.

"He won't hurt anybody, Lord Edmure." Durran promised. "Not yet anyway."

"He killed my friend." Edmure said strongly, and Durran sighed sadly.

"A different war. Old enemies are new allies Edmure." The Blackfish said.

"They're really real." Lord Belmore said in awe.

Durran almost smiled. "Aye, My Lords. Shall we convene to the command tent? Update me on the way."

"Your Grace." Lord Royce nodded, taking command. "We lost 8,000 men in the battle and retreat, Baelish is holed up at the Gates of the Moon with his army, and Lord Arryn and Lady Lysa are in the Eyrie. The Bloody Gate has been lost to Baelish once more."

"So, to defeat him, we need to create history and be the first to take the Bloody Gate." Durran surmised. "Great."

"It is possible, Your Grace." Ser Morton Waynwood said. "With the dragon…"

Nodding, Durran agreed. "He will do his part, as we shall do ours. Is there no other way around the gate?"

The Blackfish shook his head. "Not currently, the only ways are over the mountains, and the snows are heaviest there. Passing will be impossible."

Durran thought. "Very well. We have around 15,000 men then, correct?"

Edmure nodded. "A bit less, but yes."

"Then we must go in a show of force. We march today, My Lords. Ser Brynden, you were the Commander of the Bloody Gate for almost 15 years, you will command the van. Stop out of range of the fortress and use a show of force. I want shields and swords being banged together, I want them to fear an attack." Durran explained. Lord Randyll had suggested the tactic before he left King's Landing. "Then Dārys shall swoop down and incinerate the gate."

The Blackfish nodded. "May I recommend Lord Royce and Ser Morton both lead a force of 50 men each to deal with the archers on the ridges."

Durran nodded. "See it done. We must break through the gate as quickly as we can. The Vale must be liberated swiftly, and this is exactly how we do it…"

* * *

When Dany arrived back at King's Landing, the first thing she did was to check on Elaenor. The baby was sleeping, and after a brief talk with Cersei, she was left alone. She made her way to the balcony of their room, and looked out towards the city. Staring out at the fields beyond the city, she could imagine them being filled with men baring her own banner that followed her brother, assaulting her city.

Her thoughts wandered again to the Red Woman, and as soon as they had, a knock was heard at the door, and the woman in question appeared.

"How do you do that?" She asked.

"Do what, Your Grace?" Melisandre asked innocently.

Dany chuckled. "Appear when I think of you."

Melisandre just stared out to the city. "R'hllor works in mysterious ways, Your Grace. I cannot possibly know his intentions, I can only try and decipher them."

Dany's body froze briefly. "And what do you believe his intentions for my brother, Viserys?"

Melisandre turned and took the Queen's hands in her own. "The Lord of Light has a plan for us all, Your Grace. You are Azor Ahai, that much is known."

"But what about Viserys?" Dany asked impatiently.

Melisandre considered her response. "I believe that he is your Nissa Nissa."

"What?" Dany asked.

Melisandre sat down. "The story of Azor Ahai is an important one for my order. He was the chosen hero to fight against the darkness, and he laboured for thirty days and thirty nights to create a hero's sword. When he went to temper it in water however, it broke. So, he tried again but for fifty days and nights this time, only for the blade to shatter again. After this, he knew what he was missing, so laboured for a hundred days and a hundred nights, and once the blade was almost finished he asked his wife, Nissa Nissa, to bare her breast. As she did so, he drove the sword into her heart, as her soul combined with the blade. And Lightbringer was born."

Dany had gone pale in the face. "I must kill my brother."

"He must die." Melisandre nodded. "By your hand or not, you must allow him to die for you to be reborn as Azor Ahai."

"There must be another way." Dany said quietly. "You have power, can't you help…"

"I can only use my power with the blood or the seed of Kings." Melisandre said. "Unless King Durran gives himself to me, and to God, then I cannot help."

Dany shook her head. "He has been raised in the light of the Seven, he will not convert."

"Then I must apologise, I can do no more than preach." Melisandre said. "If you'll excuse me." And with that, she was gone, leaving Dany even more worried.

* * *

The noise had been deafening for hours. Shields and swords clanging together, with drums and war horns sounding also. Durran stood next to Ser Edmure rows back from Ser Brynden at the front. Armoured with full black plate, he couldn't have been more defended.

Suddenly, the noise seemed to die down from the front. Confused, Durran tried to see what was happening, but the narrow nature of the High Road this far into the Vale meant that they could only fit men in rows of three, and visibility was poor.

About ten minutes after that, with Durran getting increasingly agitated, the men in front of him began to part slightly, and Ser Eustace Hunter appeared.

"What's happening?" Durran asked.

"Lords Royce and Ser Morton have taken the ridges, Your Grace." He told them. "But Baelish himself is at the gate. He wants a parlay."

Durran was confused. "Why? He has nothing to offer me but his life."

Edmure turned. "You should hear him out anyway, Your Grace. It is expected."

Nodding, Durran agreed. "Very well. Ser Edmure, you shall join me."

Making his way to the front and dodging the occasional body that littered the ground, Durran seethed at the sight of the smirking Lord Baelish stood on the gates ramparts.

"Your Grace!" He called down. "Such an honour for you to come all this way!"

"You're a damned traitor, Baelish!" Durran called back up. "Why? I treated you with nothing but respect and you stab me in the back?"

"You did, and I thank you for Harrenhal. It made marrying my Lady very easy. But our goals no longer align." Baelish told him. "King Viserys has been most gracious, confirming me as the Lord Protector of the Vale as well as Lord Paramount of the Trident, due to the traitors of House Tully betraying his Father."

"The Mad King betrayed us all when he burnt his Warden of the North alive while his heir watched!" Edmure shouted up. "My Father had no choice."

"Your Father was an ambitious fool that craved power." Baelish called down.

"You're just bitter he banished you, Littlefinger." Edmure shouted. Littlefinger's face grew angry at the nickname.

"You mocked me for years with that name, Lord Edmure. For your sister's sake, I ask you to reconsider." He spoke icily.

"And for my sister's sake, stand down now." Edmure called. "Stand down and surrender, and we won't destroy you."

"The Bloody Gate has never fallen!" Baelish grinned.

"The Bloody Gate has never faced me." Durran called. "Say your farewells, Lord Baelish. You won't live to see another day."

With that, Durran turned back to join the Blackfish at the head of the army. Nodding at his general, the Blackfish held out a nocked arrow for a knight to set afire, and Ser Brynden aimed towards the gate, loosing. The arrow flew high above the ridge, and dropped to the ground just before the portcullis, clattering into the stone. Durran could hear the laughter coming from the Gates, but watched on as his plan came into play.

Dozens of dead goats fell from the ridges surrounding the Bloody Gate, clattering into the stone with a bloody mess. Arrows began flying both towards and from the gates ramparts, as archers fell from both sides. Screams began, as dying men realised their fates.

"When is it coming?" Edmure asked impatiently.

"Soon." Durran urged. "The smell of blood will attract…"

A roar came from the skies, as a ball of fire made way to show the huge, black figure of Dārys. He landed with a thud in front of the gate, and began roasting the carcasses of the mountain goats. Arrows bounced off of his hide, as the dragon took no notice of anything other than his food.

Durran stepped forwards, as the arrows stopped flying as the men of both sides looked on in a mix of awe and horror. The King was nervous, but his trust in his wife's words was greater.

"Ok Dany, you better be right." He whispered to himself. Growing stronger, he stood tall, pointing at the gate and bellowed in the Valyrian that Dany had taught him. " **Dārys! Dracarys!** "

The Dragon cocked his head sideways, and for a moment Durran was worried that the Dragon would fire upon him. Ser Arys went to grab him to place him behind the Kingsguard knight when the beast then stretched his wings and took off, hovering in the air ten feet above the ground, and with a roar, he breathed deadly fire upon the gate.

Screams intensified, as the stone at the centre of the fire blasts started glowing with heat. The gate itself began to look like wax when Dārys focused his fire on the portcullis, melting and deforming rapidly.

He heard nervous shuffling behind him, and whispers of Harrenhal, but Durran remained focused on the fortress in front of him. The portcullis creaked and cracked as parts of it collapsed. With a large enough hole appearing in the gate, cheers went up from the loyalists, as Durran grinned.

" **Dārys! Stop! Go and eat!** " He called loudly. He had to call the same thing multiple times until the dragon heard him. Dārys turned and glared at the Baratheon, but grabbed as many burning men as he could and flew up onto the ridge. "I fucking love dragons." He chuckled, as he gave the order to attack the gate.

Withdrawing Stormbringer, he led the charge himself. Making his way through the gate, he was a bit disappointed to see that any surviving forces were fleeing. Letting his men form up behind him, the loyalist forces began making their way towards the nearby Gates of the Moon.

* * *

They had only been walking for an hour however when in front of them was a force of about 5,000 men. Gripping his sword tighter, Durran led the charge. With Lord Edmure beside him, he crashed into the opening line of Littlefinger's men, and found himself felling two men with a single swing from the off, opening a chest and belly as he went. Swirling Stormbringer around, blood spattered everywhere, as his rage finally revealed itself.

The road was tight, and it was difficult to get truly into the flow of battle. Durran's strength prevailed however, as more often than not in his charge to reach the Gates of the Moon he just barrelled people over, letting the charge of the battle take care of most of his foes. His vision narrowed when he saw a man with shoulder length, brown hair swinging a glistening Valyrian Steel sword around, slicing cleanly through Tully soldiers. The surcoat told him exactly who he was about to face. Ser Lyn Corbray.

He thrust his sword through the neck of a Valeman, and twisted around to slice through the stomach of another. Glancing up, he noticed Corbray had spotted him, and was swinging Lady Forlorn around skilfully, inviting the challenge. Walking up to the knight, he flexed his fingers over the hilt of Stormbringer.

"Surrender, Ser Lyn." He urged.

"And miss the chance of killing a King?" Lyn laughed. "My Lady shall soon kiss you, Your Grace. It shall be your last kiss."

Laughing, Durran replied. "Best kiss her yourself, Ser Lyn. Kisses from Ladies must be strange for you."

Durran grinned at his opponent's fury at that comment, and watched his movements, as Lyn Corbray went in for the attack. Durran brought his great sword up to parry, before swinging to Corbray's left, only to be blocked and to be put back on the defensive. Corbray was the better swordsman that's for sure, and Durran had to concentrate to survive.

He soon missed his parry, and pain flashed through his leg as Lady Forlorn sliced his thigh. Getting to one knee he had to quickly shift Stormbringer into a single hand, and block the onslaught of hacks coming towards his body.

" **Dārys, help.** " He whispered, not expecting anything however. Roaring, he caught the blade in his gauntlet, noticing the metal dent as the Valyrian Steel edge attempted to pierce through. Getting to his feet, he used all of his might to backhand the Corbray heir with his spare hand. Lyn Corbray went flailing towards the floor, and sat up in horror as the screech of the dragon was heard.

"Impossible." Corbray whispered, but Durran had had enough. He used the distraction to take a running start, jumped into the air and plunged his sword through the chest of Lyn Corbray. Looking on as the knight shuddered, blood spilling from his mouth before he moved no more. Looking around, he was horrified.

Dārys looked to have taken a spear to the leg, and in his fury, had set half of the road on fire. Hundreds of men burned from both sides, Screams were deafening, and the blaze was blinding. Durran winced, holding his arm above his eyes. " **Dārys stop!** " He roared. The dragon heard him, and looked towards the Baratheon coolly, before another arrow bounced off his hide and he resumed his onslaught. " **No!** " Durran called, when his leg gave way once more, and he found himself back on one knee, before falling to the floor completely.

He didn't know how much time had eventually passed, but the next thing he knew he was being dragged away by Edmure Tully, who's red hair had been partially scorched and covered in ash. "Come now, Your Grace. We're almost at the Gates of the Moon."

"The battle…" Durran asked weakly. "Dārys…"

"We won the battle, with heavy losses." Edmure said, straining to keep Durran's weight. "The Dragon has flown off, we didn't bother to know where."

Nodding weakly, he allowed Edmure to put him on a stretcher, and fell to sleep.

* * *

Durran awoke in a hastily made tent. Looking around at his surroundings, he was initially panicked, until the strong hands of Ser Arys held him down.

"Calm, Your Grace. We're ok." He urged. "You're safe outside the Gates of the Moon. We're besieging it."

"How long have I been out?" Durran asked weakly.

"10 hours, but soundly through the night. It's almost dawn." Ser Arys said. Durran looked down and saw that his armour had been taken off, and he was in the yellow, Baratheon leather armour. Swinging his legs off of the hammock, he gripped his thigh. The pain was lighter, and he felt a bandage. "You were seen to as soon as Lord Edmure made contact with us. I am so sorry for losing you, Your Grace. I was not doing my duty to you."

"Enough of that, Ser." Durran waved off. "It was battle, people get lost in battle. We both survived, that is what's important." He went to stand up, and stumbled, causing the Kingsguard to offer his support. Ser Arys reached for a stick.

"It's not ideal, but Lord Edmure has offered the men of the Gates of the Moon terms. Hand over Baelish and surrender, and they will all live. If not, then the dragon will roast the castle."

"Where is the dragon?" Durran asked, moving around gingerly with his new walking stick.

"Perched on the mountain." Ser Arys explained. "The men… they are scared of it."

Durran sighed. "Rightly so. I should never have pretended I could control him. It was reckless and thousands burned because of my error."

"People die in war, Your Grace. We won the battles, that's what will be remembered."

"That's not what I shall remember though." Durran told Ser Arys. Silently, he found his sword and strapped it to his back, before limping out of the tent into the siege camp. Snow was falling softly onto the ground, as Durran began to experience the beginnings of his first true winter.

He noticed a small gathering by the castle entrance, and with Ser Arys he made his way over there. The men made way for him, and Durran was surprised to see three men in chains, on their knees before Edmure and the new Lord Hunter.

Making himself known, he walked up to Edmure. "What's this?"

"The garrison agreed to our terms. These are the more powerful leaders of the rebellion in the Vale." He explained. "Littlefinger, Ser Hunter and Lord Corbray."

The sight of Lord Lyonel Corbray brought a flashback of Lyn's dead body to Durran's mind, but he shook it off quickly. A tap on the shoulder came from Ser Arys, who handed him Lady Forlorn. Durran turned to the kneeling Lord.

"Lord Corbray. This sword is now yours. For the sake of your House, pledge your allegiance back to House Baratheon of King's Landing and rise." Durran said.

"I heard you killed Lyn." Corbray spat.

"I did. He fought well." Durran said.

"Not well enough." Corbray sighed. "But I will never kneel to the boy that killed my brother. Take my head boy if you will, but you shall not have my allegiance."

Sighing, Durran handed Lady Forlorn back to Ser Arys. "Very well." He said strongly, nodding to a Tully man to take the Lord away. Lord Lyonel didn't try and break free, having resigned himself to his fate. Durran stepped over to the next man. "Ser Harlan."

"Your Grace." Harlan Hunter looked up. "I was coerced…"

He was silenced by a fist to the face from his brother, Lord Eustace. "You don't get to say that! Not after Father and Gilwood!"

"Lord Eustace." Durran said, raising his voice. "Stand down."

"Your Grace…" He began, but Durran gave him a look that quickly silenced him.

Durran turned back to the captured Hunter brother. "Your brother is correct. You killed your Father and your brother. You are a murderer, you are a kinslayer. You will die today for your crimes. Take him away." Lord Eustace had two of his men take Harlan away, and skulked off angrily after them. Finally, Durran turned to Baelish, the man looking down at the ground. "Now what to do with you."

"You can use me." Baelish said.

"Use you?" Durran laughed, wincing slightly at the pain in his leg. "No, Lord Baelish. Never again. You betrayed me, you set the Vale against one another for your own personal gain. You were foolish to do so My Lord and your crimes will be punished justly." A roar came from the mountain above them, and Durran looked up to see Dārys jumping away from the mountain, and flying down to meet them. Durran grinned, looking back at Baelish. "You've angered the Dragon, Lord Baelish. I believe I should leave your fate in his hands."

Durran stepped back, urging everyone else to do the same, leaving Baelish alone by the Gates of the Moon entrance. Baelish shakily stood up, just as Dārys landed on the stone path with a thud.

"Your Grace…" Baelish began. "Your Grace… please!"

" **Dārys, will you listen to me now?** " Durran asked the dragon, reaching his hand up to stroke the Dragon's head. Dārys looked at him, before seemingly nodding. Chuckling, Durran pointed at Baelish. " **Dinner.** "

The Dragon turned to face Baelish, snarling terrifyingly. Durran watched on as the Lord of Harrenhal trembled in terror, a liquid darkening his breeches. The man tried to run, but Dārys was far too quick. Pouncing, he wrapped his jaws around Baelish's torso, and with a loud tearing sound, the man's side became separated from his body. Blood spilled everywhere as the remainder of the man dropped to the ground suddenly, and Dārys, after chewing the part that he had already ripped off, roasted the remains alive before continuing his feast.

Durran turned away heading back to his tent, and he was joined by Ser Arys and Edmure Tully. "It won't bring back my Uncle, or Lord Royce, or any of the men we lost yesterday, but I cannot say I am sad to see Littlefinger die." Edmure said.

Durran stopped at the naming of their losses, but carried on quickly. "This isn't over yet. Your sister is still up in the Eyrie with Lord Robin. We need to make our way up there."

Ser Arys shook his head. "In this weather, Your Grace, it will be near on impossible to make our way up there."

Durran grinned, and looked back at the feasting Dārys. "It will be impossible for men aye, but not for a dragon."


	24. Sōvēs

Flying a dragon when it wasn't bonded to you was a nightmare, Durran decided. After spending ten minutes just trying to get it to fly, Dārys suddenly shot upwards, giving Durran almost no time to cling on to his spikes, and taking more time than needed to fly up to the part of the Giants Lance that housed the Eyrie. Dārys also seemed to dislike the small blizzard that was occurring, and as soon as they landed in a courtyard, with Durran being thrown off forcefully, the dragon began blowing smoke from its nostrils, melting the oncoming snow.

Durran brushed himself off before turning to the Dragon. "Never again, I'd rather be buggered bloody than try and ride you again." He whispered, fixing his sword belt that now had Lady Forlorn sheathed. He noticed a serving girl staring at them both, her mouth wide open in a mix of awe and horror. Durran called out to her. "You, you know who I am?" He asked. She nodded her head. "Fetch me Lord Robin, and nobody else."

"Your Grace… Lady Lysa…" She stammered, but Durran cut her off.

"No, Lord Robin and only Lord Robin. Go." He commanded, and the girl dropped the sheets she was carrying and ran. Soon enough, numerous guards ran towards the courtyard, all of them stopping by the entrances with spears and shields prominent. Lord Robin was accompanied by the Maester, who looked shocked to see Durran there.

"Why am I here?" Robin called. "It's cold!"

"You're here because the war is over, Lord Robin." Durran said. He reached into a bag and pulled out the mess of a head that was Baelish's. "I don't think I need to state how bloody difficult it is to keep a dragon from eating every part of the body, but somehow I managed it." He rolled the head over to a guard near the Maester, who looked terrified now. "Maester, has Lord Robin learnt about his ancestor, Lord Ronnel yet?"

"Was he the one that flew?" Robin asked eagerly.

Durran chuckled. "In more ways than one yes. The first time, what happened?"

Robin scrunched up his forehead in thought, before eagerly saying. "He flew a dragon! Can I do that too!"

"Lord Robin, your Lady Mother…" The Maester began.

"She isn't here, Maester Coleman." Durran said to the Maester he had seen attending Lord Jon Arryn many times before. "No, My Lord, this dragon is not commanded by me, but he knows me well enough that I could have him burn your castle to ashes if I saw fit."

Robin grew angry, and looked like he was about to start screaming when Dārys turned to face the boy and blew smoke out of his nostrils, followed by a small burst of flames at the boy's feet. Tears began forming in Robin's eyes. "Please don't." He whimpered.

"Then you will agree to what I have to say, with the Maester as your witness." Durran said. "The Lords and Ladies of the Vale are behind me now, but I need you to agree to bend the knee and re-join the realm. If not, then I shall have no choice but to continue this needless war to its end, and that will come with your death. Do you want to die?" Robin shook his head. "Then bend your knee and swear yourself to me."

Robin looked up at the Maester, who just nodded, and told him what to say. "On your knee and say, 'The Vale is yours, Your Grace'."

Robin did as he was told, and Durran smiled. Now that he himself had bent the knee, nobody could take that back. "Very well, and your guards?"

Maester Coleman sighed. "Stand down. King Durran is an honoured guest."

"The dragon isn't." One of them said, and Durran nodded.

"Agreed, but he's my only protection. Unless you will all place your swords and spears down…" Durran began, only to be interrupted by a screeching woman.

"WHERE IS ROBIN!" The voice said, and Durran braced himself. Surely enough, the red hair of Lysa Tully game into view. She barged through the guards and knelt to Robin. "What happened Sweetrobin? Did he hurt you?"

"I got on one knee and told him the Vale was his, like the Maester said." He said proudly. Lysa looked up furiously at Coleman.

"You told him to bend the knee to the Dragon whore's pet?" She asked angrily.

"It was that or have the dragon roast us all, My Lady." Coleman told her.

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" She screamed at the Maester. "I am the Lady Regent!"

"And I am the King!" Durran roared over her. "You committed treason, Lady Regent, by declaring war on me. By rights your life is forfeit, but Lord Arryn has already lost one parent. Very soon we shall all traverse down to the Gates of the Moon for Winter, where you shall be placed under house arrest. The ruling of the Vale will be overseen by Lords Royce, Hunter, Belmore and Lady Waynwood. Lord Arryn will travel to King's Landing with me, to squire under and learn from the Hand of the King Stannis Baratheon. Do I make myself clear?"

Lysa turned, grinning. "You can't make me. Guards! Kill him!"

Dārys made himself big at that moment, getting onto his hind legs and flapping his wings while roaring. All the guards looked between one another, before dropping their weapons and backing away. Durran stepped towards Lysa Arryn. "My Lady, don't make this difficult."

Lysa made it difficult. She sprung her hand out quickly, her palm connecting with Durran's stubbled cheek strongly. The slap echoed around the courtyard, as everybody contemplated what she had done. The Maester began muttering quietly. "No, My Lady… what have you done…"

Durran's face flew into anger. He raised his own hand and backhanded Lysa Arryn around the cheek so strongly she was knocked off her feet, her mouth filling with blood. "I am being more than lenient with you My Lady for the sake of your Brother, and your Son. I am within every right to take both your hand and your head." Instead though, he grabbed her hair and yanked her up strongly, ignoring both her and Robin's protests. "Maester, which way to her rooms?"

* * *

Three days later, and Durran was seated on a horse at the bottom of the mountain. Lysa had tried to cause a scene, but once her power had been broken the Vale guards flocked to him easily enough, and soon had her restrained enough to move down the mountain. He was seated next to a sulking Robin Arryn, who didn't want to leave.

"You know, Lord Arryn. I once had a Mother that liked to control everything I do." He told the boy. "I looked up to her, loved her unconditionally. Then she did some bad things, and I realised that I needed to step up myself. That is what you will do. You will be the greatest Lord of the Vale in history, and I will help you do that." He lied, but it was worth it at the slight hint of Robin perking up and looking interested.

"I will?" He asked.

"Yes." Durran lied. Ser Morton Waynwood walked over to them then. "Ser Morton, are we ready?"

"You are." Morton nodded. "6,000 men isn't a lot considering…"

"It'll have to do for now. These wars have been devastating on Westeros but we shall have to make do with what we have." Durran explained. "You will join us at Fawnton?"

"I'll get a ship down to King's Landing as soon as my Mother arrives to take over my place on the council." Morton nodded.

"Good." Durran said. "Then we best be off, it'll take at least three weeks to travel back to King's Landing and I've been away from my daughter enough." He reached down and clasped Morton's arm with his own as a mark of respect, before turning to Robin. "Come, My Lord." Kicking his horse into action, he led the remainder of the Riverlander/Vale army down the High Road.

* * *

Daenerys was holding Elaenor to her breast on the balcony when shouts could be heard from below them. She leaned over but couldn't see what was going on well enough. Her mind drifted Northwards, to where Durran hadn't been heard from since she dropped him off in the Vale. Worried, she looked down at her daughter, asleep in her arms.

Humming the Song of the Seven, Dany set the baby down in her crib, making sure she wasn't awoken by the movement. Happily hearing the peaceful breathing continue, she returned to the balcony to watch her two Dragon's still in the city flying around happily. After losing track of time just staring at the creatures, her viewing was interrupted when her door opened, and footsteps walked towards her.

"Ser Perwyn." She said without looking, knowing who was guarding the door. "I thought I asked not to be disturbed."

"My apologies, Your Grace." He said. "The Hand of the King is here."

Dany turned at this. "Stannis? Here personally?"

"Yes, Your Grace." He added.

"Send him through." Dany told the Kingsguard. She walked back into her chambers and sat at Durran's desk. Stannis entered, sporting an eyepatch for the first time.

"A new fashion item, Lord Stannis?" Dany asked jovially.

Stannis didn't laugh. "Lady Joy believed it would be wise to have one on hand for the occasion I didn't feel like terrifying the Princess."

Dany smirked. "Your wife is wise. What can I do for you?"

"The Florent traitors have arrived. Lord Alester and Ser Imry. I can deal with them if you like, but I presumed you would want to sentence them from the Throne." Stannis said.

Dany nodded. "Yes. I would. I believe it's time that people saw what it meant to cross the true Dragon." She said monotonously. Stannis' eye narrowed. "You don't approve?"

"I approve of you being strong." Stannis told her, offering his arm. Dany stood and took it, as they both walked out of the room, leaving the baby with a wet-nurse. "What I don't approve of is that look in your eye. The signal of fire."

"Fire is the purest form of death." She said, unhappily. "If anything, they should be delighted."

"I know you've heard stories of your Father, but tell me, do you know what caused Robert to rebel?" Stannis asked.

"I don't see how Rhaegar…"

"I'm not talking about Rhaegar." Stannis cut in, angering Dany slightly. "I'm talking about what led half of Westeros to turn on one another. What happened to the Starks?" Dany kept silent. She had heard the Mad King name too many times to count, but whenever she asked about what he had actually done, not many people could stay honest with her. Durran was one of the only ones, and even he wouldn't talk about the Starks. "When Lyanna Stark was taken, her eldest brother Brandon rode to the Red Keep and foolishly challenged Rhaegar to come out and die. Naturally, for threatening the Crown Prince he was arrested. Lord Rickard, his Father, came South to fight for his son in a trial by combat. Your Father chose fire."

Dany shook her head. "Lots of people used fire to kill, it is cruel yes, but what is so sickening about it…"

"It is said, that after he burnt his enemies, he became…" Stannis trailed off.

"He became what?" Dany asked, growing angrier.

"He…" Stannis was lost for words, but they had reached the stairs of the corridor, and Jaime Lannister was stood there waiting for them.

"He became aroused." Jaime said. Dany glared at him. "I apologise, Your Grace. It's not a truth one wants to hear or say, but I was his Kingsguard, I was there. Whenever he burned somebody alive, he would pay your Mother a visit immediately."

Silence fell, and Dany was horrified. "You lie." She eventually said.

Jaime's face fell. "I wish I did." He whispered. "I remember after burning Lord Stark and having his son strangle himself to save him, he visited the Queen. I wanted to stop him, I thought 'well she is under our protection too' but the Lord Commander just told me that we are here to protect the King, not to judge him. It was a moment that opened my eyes."

"And led you to kill him." Dany spat. Jaime just took it in his stride.

"I have never told anybody the true reason why I killed the King." He said. "One day, if you'll let me, I'll explain everything."

Dany just moved on, dragging Stannis away. "So, what is your point, Lord Hand." She asked, annoyed.

"Burning people alive isn't the way to handle things yet. People still remember King Aerys, and they don't want another reminder." Stannis told her. "I urge you to consider beheading as a better alternative."

Dany said nothing again, and they made it to the Throne Room. Dany made her way up the stairs and sat down in the Throne of her ancestors, and the prisoners were brought in.

They were shaggy and rough after weeks on the road. Alester Florent looked defeated, but Imry was still seemingly putting up a fight. They were unceremoniously thrown to their knees before her. "Her Grace, Queen Daenerys, of the House Targaryen." Stannis called from beside her.

Her thoughts were still racing, she truly believed they deserved the flames, but a look from Stannis who nodded towards Durran's family calmed her down a touch. Myrcella, Shireen and Cersei were in the gallery.

"Ser Alester." She began, remembering he had had his lands taken from him. "Ser Imry. You both stand charged of treason against your Liege Lord, Mace Tyrell, and your King. Instead of banding together with the Crown to see off the invaders of the Golden Company, you decided to join them for personal gain and both of you fought on the battlefield. Speak now. Explain your actions to me so I can understand."

Alester looked up, he had dark rings around his eyes from lack of sleep. "A son comes before a daughter. King Viserys is the rightful heir, and he offered us our birth right. I stand by my decision, even now."

"Yet the Iron Throne was won by House Baratheon in conquest." Dany told him. "King Durran married me to negate these petty arguments. House Baratheon and Targaryen are united now and forever."

"Like I said, a son comes first." Alester said.

Dany sighed. "Ser Imry, you were not the final decision maker. Repent to the Crown and forsake Ser Alester and you may live."

Imry laughed. "And serve the stewards of Highgarden for the rest of my days? You might as well cut off my balls. Never."

"Imry…" Alester said.

"No Uncle. I live and die by my decision." Imry said strongly. "Take my head, whore. But King Viserys will have you soon."

Disgusted, Dany rose. "Then the decision is simple. In the name of His Grace, Durran of the House Baratheon. First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Queen Daenerys sentence you to die. Take them to the block, Lord Hand. I want their heads."

A cheer went up from the small crowd in the room, and the prisoners were led out by a group of Gold Cloaks. Stannis passed her on his way out, turning around briefly and nodding his approval. Dany just sat back in the Iron Throne however, aching to see the fire dancing.

* * *

Robb stepped into the courtyard of his home for the first time in almost three years. He was almost in tears at the state of it. The ramparts lay on the ground collapsed, the few wooden buildings were blackened husks, and rubble from a wall that had collapsed blocked a pathway.

"Seven hells…" He heard his Mother from behind him.

"When I get my hands on Greyjoy." Robb snarled, his teeth clenched. Grey Wind was growling from behind him too, staying next to Roslin.

"Get in line." Arya growled too.

"First, we tidy this up." Catelyn said, springing in to action. "Sansa, you take Lady Roslin to Robb's old chambers, get her comfortable and start the fire for her. You must be freezing My Lady."

"Yes Mother." Sansa nodded. She took Roslin's hand and sidestepped the debris on the floor before timidly opening the doors to the main keep.

"Arya, go and get Lord Umber from his camp. Tell him to bring 200 strong men. We need to move all of this before we can assess the damage." Catelyn said. Arya nodded, and ran off. Catelyn turned to Robb, who was staring at the bodies hanging up on a wall. Bodies of children. A wail left her lips, as she fell to her knees. Robb silently knelt beside her, not taking his eyes off of the children.

"Errol. Cut them down and prepare them for burial." He ordered. The guard got to his task, as Robb helped his Mother up.

Her face was streaming with tears, but Cat's voice remained strong. "Don't bury them in the crypts, please. I want to be able to see them and I…"

"Don't feel comfortable in the crypts, I remember." Robb sighed. "They can be buried with the other Starks. We need a statue for Father too…"

"Another day." Cat sniffed, as voices could be heard. Robb turned to see Lord Umber walking through with Arya and numerous men.

"Bugger me with a spear…" The Greatjon said, shocked. "Those cunts will pay."

"Aye, they will Lord Umber." Cat said. "But first, we must clear this. Take it out, salvage what you can but get rid of what you can't. Tomorrow, we will start rebuilding from the Wolfswood."

The Greatjon bowed his head, before he turned to his men. "Well what are you fuckers waiting for! You heard the Lady, move your arses!"

Robb just stood there for what seemed like an age, as men came in and out of the castle shifting the debris. As soon as he noticed the way to the Godswood was clear, however, he darted into the sacred space. Again, he was horrified at what he saw.

Maester Luwin, or what was left of Maester Luwin, was sat at the base of the Weirwood tree. His teeth had fallen out and his body was rotting. Gagging, Robb couldn't handle any more and the contents of his stomach found their way onto the floor. Falling to his knees again, he began sobbing wildly.

"WHY!" He roared, tears falling. "Why me. Is this my punishment? For trusting Theon? For declaring myself King? Why this? Why take my family, my home? Old Gods I beg you. If this is my punishment then kill me. Please. I beg you, end my life so I can stop causing my family pain."

The wind only rustled the blood red leaves of the Weirwood tree. Robb just curled up into a ball and cried. His grief at losing his Father, his brothers and his home being burnt all flooding out at once.

* * *

Things didn't get any easier in the Capital over the next few weeks either. Durran had sent a raven that arrived the day before saying that he was at Darry, so the Small Council were expecting him in around a week's time. This meeting however, was one he needed to be at.

In the middle of the Small Council Table, a large box lay open, and the occupants of the room were all disgusted.

"Can we close the lid? The smell is foul." Mace Tyrell complained.

"Ignore the smell, My Lord." Ser Barristan said angrily. "My nephew's son's head is in a box!"

Lord Arstan Selmy's head was indeed in the Small Council chambers. It had been accompanied by a note, which Stannis was reading now. "We understand, Lord Commander. I swear to you on all the Gods this shall be avenged. He was my bannerman."

"Then we must do something!" Ser Barristan argued. "Send me down in the King's name to group all our forces."

"They are already grouped, Ser Barristan. They all knew that we were amassing at Fawnton." Lord Randyll said. "We just need true leadership there, someone with the King's own voice. Lord Stefan, while clearly capable in his wise retreat from Blackhaven, is still just a boy."

"He is." Stannis agreed proudly. "And he saved the lives of thousands in letting the castle go, as well as taking out two elephants in the initial battle remember. Lord Randyll is right however, we need to act now."

"While the King is still away?" Varys asked.

"He is almost here. We can send a small force earlier." Stannis told him.

"Well you can't go, Lord Stannis." Randyll Tarly said. "Not with the Queen preoccupied with the baby. We need you here for now."

Disgruntled, Stannis agreed. Mace Tyrell unhelpfully poked his chins up then. "I can go. My nephew Garlan is already there after all."

"Your talents lie elsewhere." Stannis said shortly. "Lord Randyll is Master of War, he shall go."

"Lord Hand." Randyll Tarly bowed.

"Take 500 men. Drill the army at Fawnton and keep an eye on the Targaryen's movements. He is through the Marches now so I'd expect him to head towards either Storm's End or Felwood. Either way he will have to go through Grandview." Stannis said, pointing at the maps. "Get scouts there, I want to know the size of his army, I want to know how regularly he shits. I want to know everything by the time I arrive with the King."

Randyll bowed once more, and left the room. One by one the Small Council left too, until it was Stannis and Ser Barristan left.

"Lord Hand, I ask once more to be sent to avenge…"

"Ser Barristan." Stannis interrupted. "You will go, I promise you. The King needs his Lord Commander though, so you will wait for him to arrive at the Capital before leaving. Right now, we are just looking at damage limitation until the River and Vale forces arrive. Can you be patient for me, Ser?"

Ser Barristan looked at the box sadly. "For His Grace, aye. But I will avenge House Selmy. It is my duty as the last surviving member of my House."

Stannis nodded sadly. "I understand."

Ser Barristan stood, and just said. "No, you can't." Before taking the box with him and leaving the room.

* * *

It was chaos when the King arrived back in King's Landing. He only wanted to spend a night before they marched out to Fawnton, so the castle had sprung into action to see to it that provisions were prepared for, and the men had all the equipment they needed. Durran had spent the night with Dany, who was none too happy about him leaving again so soon, and even less happy about his insistence she stayed. He woke up early next morning and she was still angry.

"I don't see why, I have the dragons! They can win you the battle!" She cried. Luckily Cersei was looking after Elaenor so they could shout.

"And I won't risk Viserys bonding with one!" Durran roared back. "You gave birth not long ago, please just rest."

"It was months!" Dany shouted. "This is my war too! It's my Brother! You have no right to keep me…"

"I have every right!" Durran roared again. "I am keeping you safe, my love. Please, just listen to me. I need you here. I need you to take over for me, Stannis is fighting, Lord Randyll and Ser Barristan too. Half the Small Council is going to war, I need you here."

Dany huffed and crossed her arms. "This isn't right."

Durran smiled softly, before putting his arms around her. "I'm keeping you safe, yes it is."

She smacked him on the chest. "I am not some weak maiden looking to be rescued Durran, I'm a Queen, a dragon rider and a Targaryen. I'm the last daughter of Old Valyria."

Durran nodded. "And you will remain as such after the war. I promise I will try and bring him back alive. I will offer him the deal you spoke of because you asked it of me, but I need you to stay here for me."

Dany nodded. "I don't like it one bit." She told him. "But I dislike us arguing more. I will be your maiden this once, Baratheon."

Durran grinned, and kissed her lips softly. "I best go. I love you, My Queen."

Dany said nothing, just handed him his sword. Durran left the room and made his way to the stables, where a small entourage was waiting for him. Saddling his horse, he looked to Ser Barristan, Ser Arys and Ser Jaime. "The Queen will be safe?"

Jaime nodded. "Ser Balon is in command, with Ser Perwyn and Ser Podrick. They will be fine."

Durran nodded. "I may have to rethink my whole Kingdom policy, I'm not looking forward to picking someone from Dorne after this."

"Maybe a Dayne." Ser Barristan said. "They are with us."

"Edric Dayne is." Stannis said. "We've not heard from Starfall in over a month."

Durran sighed. "Let us depart. I want us in the Kingswood within the hour."

"Your Grace." Came the call, and as soon as all final checks had been made they rode through the city to join the forces Durran had brought with him, soon leaving Southwards to try and finish the war.

* * *

The weeks since the arrival at Winterfell had been busy. After the first day of inner torment, Robb hardened himself and got to work. He was in and amongst the groups that were moving rubble, carving wooden beams and doing all he could to help get the castle in a decent enough shape. Things were going well, but there was still a long way to go. He also had a statue of his Father placed on the tomb next to Lyanna Stark, and had the body placed in there the very next day as Sansa, Cat and Arya watched on, all in tears.

He went by every day, struggling to go to the Godswood after seeing Luwin lying there, and preferring to talk to something he knew he believed in, his Father.

"I'm even considering rebuilding the Broken Tower." Robb chuckled softly. "It seems a waste just leaving it unused. Maybe I can use it as a bigger barracks, or a medical tower or something. Anyway Father, I best get on. You taught me all you could but you didn't tell me how much work was involved in being the Lord of Winterfell. I'll see you tomorrow."

Taking a step back and breathing deeply, he took one more look at the face of his Father's statue before walking out of the crypts, into the brisk cold air of the North. A light snow drift was falling, and Robb relished the feeling on his face.

He stood by the crypts and just watched for a moment. It was busy, the sounds of hammers prominent as the scaffolds were going up, of people chattering as life began to get back to normal.

His watching was interrupted by a galloping horse. His mind immediately reacting, he reached for his sword at his hip and held onto the hilt tightly, as a man dressed all in black entered the courtyard. Soldiers rushed to surround him, but Robb recognised the cloak as one like his Uncle's.

"Stand down." He commanded, and the men lowered their weapons. He walked towards the man, who had dismounted his horse and was catching his breath.

"Lord Stark? Robb Stark?" He gasped.

"Aye, that's me. Who are you?" Robb asked.

"My name's Pyp, m'lord." He said. "I'm a brother of the Night's Watch, and Jon's friend. I promise I'm no deserter m'lord but I think Jon's in trouble, and Ser Alliser wants him dead."

Robb portrayed no emotion, but nodded at a guard to take the horse to the stables. "Follow me, and tell me what you need." He said.


	25. The Watchers on the Wall

Cersei was really enjoying the time she got to spend with the baby Elaenor. Life hadn't been the same since before Durran took power, and she had been reduced to being a Mother, rather than a powerful woman in her own right. As time went on however, she found herself accepting that role more.

Looking down at the baby in her arms, she wondered to herself how something so pure could come from Robert's bloodline. Elaenor's deep blue eyes stared up at her, and she smiled as the baby giggled and grabbed some of Cersei's hair.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door, and in came Jaime. Cersei's breath caught in her mouth. They hadn't been alone in almost four years, and if she was being honest she missed him terribly. Their green eyes locked on to one another.

"Cersei…" Jaime whispered.

Cersei could feel her cheeks warming up. "Jaime."

"I was looking for the Queen."

"She is down at the Dragonpit I believe." Cersei told him. Jaime nodded, and walked over to see Elaenor.

"Being a Grandmother suits you." He said, letting the baby take one of his fingers. Cersei shook her head.

"I can scarcely believe she's real sometimes." She whispered, placing her hand on his. He froze in place for a moment, seemingly caught in a dilemma, before he gently moved his hand away.

"We can't…" He said.

"Nobody is here." She pleaded. "You have no idea how much I've missed you, how much I need you."

"You're just upset about Tommen and Myrcella." Jaime insisted gently.

Cersei scoffed. "Myrcella I can handle, she's a Princess and I'd rather she be married to the Dayne than that spawn of Mad Lysa. Tommen is just a boy though, war is no place for him…"

"He will be fine, he's only a squire." Jaime insisted.

"He's 12 years old!" Cersei spat. "He has no place on a battlefield."

Jaime sat down beside his twin. "Daven won't risk him, he will be fine. He's trained for this and he is ready, he's probably more ready than I was at his age."

"You should be there with him, protecting our boy." Cersei whispered vulnerably.

Jaime agreed with her, but Durran's orders had been specific. "I'd prefer to be there, protecting Durran, protecting Tommen, but my orders are to protect you all. If they somehow break through, then I'm needed here."

Cersei nodded, but Jaime could see that she was still uncomfortable. He stood to stand behind her, laying his hand on her shoulder. Cersei reached up to caress his hand with her own, leaning in to him. Placing Elaenor in her crib, she stood, and the two hugged for the first time in ages. Cersei went to move in for a kiss, but Jaime pushed her back.

"No." Jaime said firmly, glaring at her. "I'm just regaining the King's trust and he strictly forbade me to be alone with you. I can't…"

Cersei felt her heart fall. "Do you not love me?" She asked, her hands resting on her heart. "We once claimed we were one, you and I."

"And we are." Jaime insisted. "I will always love you, but my duty to your Son comes above all else. I will not break another vow, Cersei. Don't ask me to."

Cersei's face fell into a scowl. "The Queen is at the Dragonpit then Ser." She snapped. Jaime stared at her questioningly, but Cersei had fallen into a silent rage. Bowing his head, he turned around and left, leaving Cersei alone with the baby once more.

* * *

Durran rode in to the camp at Fawnton to see a mass of banners. Houses from all over the South could be seen, and the sight of around 42,000 men from all over the South was promising. They quickly set up camp, and Durran, Stannis, Daven Lannister, Edmure Tully and Andar Royce all walked into the castle, and after being greeted by the young Lord Cafferen, was escorted to the War Room, leaving Ser Barristan and Ser Podrick standing guard outside. Inside the room, stood Randyll Tarly, leading the session with Garlan Tyrell, Edric Dayne, Stefan Baratheon and Beric Dondarrion all in attendance. Those inside the tent all immediately sank to one knee.

"My Lords, please." Durran said, gesturing them to rise. "Get me up to speed."

Randyll Tarly pointed at the map. "The enemy are camped at Blackhaven still, they've sent scouting parties eastwards, but I think they're more interested in an open battle."

"Why?" Stannis asked.

"They could prove a lot by taking Storm's End, and while holding some hostages would appeal, the Golden Company pride themselves on battle, and they know that if they take Storm's End, with our host here and the blockade of Dorne, it could become dangerous for them if they get sieged with over 20,000 in their army." Randyll Tarly. "With the elephants and the Dornish out for blood, their temperament seems to point towards a battle here."

Durran looked at where he was pointing. "Summerhall, of course."

"Winning the battle against you at the site of a seat of Targaryen power would send a clear message." Stannis admitted.

"He won't win." Stefan said defiantly. "We saw the Golden Company at Blackhaven, and without the Elephants, they can be beaten easily. Taking them out should be our main priority."

Durran nodded. "You and Lord Beric can take point on that as you have the most experience, tell me what you need."

"Archers." Beric said. "Give me the best archers and we can take them, I'm sure of it."

"There's still the Dornish." Garlan Tyrell told them all. "They'll have equal the numbers of the Company, if not more."

"And the Reach has more, with a history of killing Dornishmen." Randyll Tarly said. "Put the Reachmen up against the Dornish, and the remaining forces can be placed opposite the Company."

Durran looked to Stannis, who nodded. "Very well. We'll line up like that, but first I want a parlay."

Those that had already fought in the Marches weren't happy. "A parlay?" Stefan scoffed. "Your Grace…"

"I'm not expecting anything from it." Durran said, holding his hands up. "Too much blood has been spilled for that, but he is the Queen's brother, and I owe it to every man in this army to try and sort this out peacefully before I ask them to risk their lives."

"What terms?" Randyll asked.

"He can have Dragonstone." Stannis explained. "If he agrees and bends the knee, then King Durran will grant him that castle and that castle only."

"He won't accept that." Edric Dayne said from a corner. "He's ambitious, greedy, but well trained in all forms of battle. He would rather die on the field than bend to you, Your Grace."

Durran grinned. "I'm counting on it. But send a raven anyway."

Randyll Tarly nodded, and the Lords went on detailing every section of Durran's forces, and where they wanted them in the battle ahead. By the end of the long meeting, the plan had been finalised and Durran was happy.

* * *

Far to the North, Jon watched Sam descend in the lift, his thoughts still solely on Ygritte. He was so confused by her; did he love her? Did he hate her for shooting him? He pondered on this as he walked back to his post, just waiting for the sign of the fire that would begin the attack. He stood there for what seemed like an age, before a single horn blast was heard. Confused at why a second wasn't coming, he heard a commotion behind him.

Turning, he noticed Ser Alliser Thorne striding towards the lift. "Bastard! Come here!" Thorne shouted. Jon clenched his teeth, but followed the knight. They stopped at a viewpoint looking down to the South, and Jon saw the army walking up the Kingsroad. "A band, you said. A band of Wildlings South of the Wall. That's a fucking army!"

Jon knew something wasn't right. Looking out, he saw that banners were being flown. "No, Ser Alliser, look." He said. "Banners."

"You what?" Ser Alliser asked.

"Banners!" Jon exclaimed. "Free Folk don't fly banners. It must be Robb." Ser Alliser stared out again, trying to focus. Jon did too, and noticed the Direwolf he grew up under being flown proudly at the head of the procession. "The Direwolf of House Stark."

"Come with me, bastard. Ser Janos, you have the Wall." Thorne growled, and the two shared an uncomfortable silence down to the ground of Castle Black. The gates were being opened as soon as they got to the ground, and Jon stayed at Thorne's side, even as he saw Robb riding in, surprised at the level of scarring on his face. They caught eyes, and both of them couldn't contain their grins.

Robb dismounted and made for Jon. "Who is in command?" He asked.

"I am." Ser Alliser stated.

"Ser Alliser Thorne, Lord Robb Stark." Jon said the introductions.

"Ser Alliser. We received word that the Night's Watch was in trouble."

Ser Alliser stared grimly. "We sent no ravens, there are Wildlings South of the Wall, we could not risk showing them any weakness."

Robb nodded. "We received no Raven, but a man of the Night's Watch. He rode with great haste to Winterfell and told us all."

"A deserter?" Thorne asked, glaring at Pyp.

"No, a messenger." The giant man next to Robb explained, roughly patting Pyp on the shoulder.

"Aye." Robb agreed. "He did all he could for the Watch, and without him, I wouldn't have known to march 5,000 men to your aid. You are in his debt, Ser Alliser."

Ser Alliser growled, but nodded. "Go to your post, Pyp." He commanded. "Lord Snow, find the Northern archers posts atop the Wall. Lord Stark, we cannot house so many men, but if you can, you're welcome to make a defensible camp outside the gate, and we shall lead the Southern defence from there.

Robb nodded. "Lord Umber."

"My Lord." The Giant Umber bowed his head, and made his way back out the gates. Thorne skulked off back up the Wall then, leaving Jon and Robb to thud together in a fierce hug.

Stepping back from one another, Robb looked Jon up and down. "You were right, it is your colour." He grinned.

Jon chuckled. "It is good to see you."

"What has it been, three years?" Robb asked.

"More like four." Jon corrected. "We've both picked up some scars along the way."

Robb nodded. "That looks nasty." He said, pointing to Jon's face.

"Hawk, controlled by a Warg." Jon commented. "Yours?"

"Dragon, controlled by the Queen." Robb grinned. "I win again, Snow."

Jon laughed, hugging Robb again. "You've come at the right time. We're expecting the attack any hour now."

Robb nodded. "We couldn't spot anything on our way up, but we did pass through Mole's Town. Was that them?" Jon nodded. "We found a couple of survivors, a woman and a babe… They're with Lady Mormont now.

"Gilly?" Jon asked.

"I think so…" Robb said. "You know her?"

Jon looked up at the door to the mess hall to find Sam there looking down on them. He waved Sam down, and turned back to Robb. "She is a friend, Sam here rescued her from an abusive Father North of the Wall."

"Did you?" Robb asked the overweight Reachman. "Aye, she mentioned a Sam. Come, I'll take you to her while I gather my archers."

"Th… thank you, My Lord." Sam stammered.

Robb waved it off, before clasping Jon's shoulder again. "Now, what else have I missed."

* * *

After dinner, Durran retired to the chambers that Lord Cafferen had offered him, and the King met with Edric Dayne. He poured himself some water, and the Dayne boy some Arbor Red before sitting down at a desk with some parchment in front of him.

"You don't drink, Your Grace?" Edric asked.

"Only when I need to." Durran said. "You know what it did to King Robert, growing up under that is enough to put anyone off." Edric just nodded, and took a sip. "I want you to give me information on all the Houses in Dorne. Would any be willing to turn?"

Edric thought for a moment. "House Yronwood maybe, they've still not forgiven Prince Oberyn for the incident involving the late Lord Edgar."

Durran began scratching out a brief letter for Varys at that point. "Good, any other major Houses? House Uller? House Wyl?"

Edric shook his head. "Most in Dorne are fiercely supportive of this war. The only other House that may be willing to turn their cloaks are the Blackmont's, but that's a slim possibility."

Durran nodded. "House Martell have forfeited their right to any land under my rule. This blatant treason is too much for me to allow, and as a result of my dealings with House Stark, an example must be made."

Edric nodded. "Part of the reason for most Houses joining this rebellion was that of your treaty with Lord Robb." He admitted.

"Which is why I must be ruthless in this war." Durran said. "House Martell must die. Doran, Trystane, Oberyn and all three of his bastard girls, they cannot live at the end of all this, and they won't."

Edric shifted uncomfortably. "Your Grace…"

"This isn't up for discussion." Durran said, looking up at Edric. "What is up for discussion, is what happens to Dorne afterwards."

"Slaughtering the Martell's won't go down well with anyone in Dorne." Edric said. "Rebellions will happen."

Durran nodded. "I'd expect no less. What I also expect is that the Lord Paramount of Dorne find a way to deal with that."

Edric was confused. "Lord Paramount…"

"Forgive me, but one of the biggest mistakes the Targaryen's ever made was accept the Martell's insistence that they remained as Princes." Durran explained. "In my eyes it gives them a sense of entitlement that I can't allow after this. With the death of House Martell, a new family will come to rule Dorne, but under the name of Lord Paramount, such as the custom in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. I want that ruling House to be House Dayne of Starfall."

Edric was shocked. "Your Grace, that is an honour…"

"It is a responsibility." Durran said. "Like you said, rebellion will be the whisper of the country, which is why I need some other major Houses on side to agree to this. My mind is made up on your new role, Lord Edric. You came to my side when none else did, you risked your life to warn us of the attack on Blackhaven. You deserve this and more. Which is why to go with your new title, I am granting you the hand of Princess Myrcella." Edric was lost for words now, and Durran chuckled at his open mouth. "Originally, I was going to offer her to Robin Arryn, but the boy is a brat that pines after his Mother, and as good a match it would be, I also care about her happiness. This way, she will be happy in a climate that will agree with her, I get to keep my Uncle Tyrion's promise in betrothing her to the ruling House of Dorne, and you will gain additional protection by being family to the Crown."

Edric stood up and got down to one knee. "You honour me beyond words, Your Grace. If this is your will, I would be a fool not to accept."

"You would." Durran chuckled and bid Edric to rise. "But you are no fool. You're a brave individual that my cousin Stefan speaks highly of. Together, we can usher in a new age for Dorne, we can gain revenge for the savagery your family has faced at the hands of the Darkstar, and we can bring about a period of lasting peace."

Edric nodded. "What has befallen my family is a crime, and I ask that I fight alongside Lord Garlan, so I can kill the Darkstar with my own hands. I know he would have stolen Dawn, and he has no right to that sword."

Durran nodded. "That's reasonable."

Edric smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Finishing his letter to Varys, Durran rolled it up, poured some liquid wax on to the parchment and pressed his seal to it. Handing the letter to Edric, he said. "See that this is sent to King's Landing, and then go and find Lord Garlan. We have a long few days ahead of us and if you are to fight with the Reachmen, you should train with them too."

Edric bowed his head, and left the room, leaving Durran to ponder on what exactly he was going to say to his brother by law when the two met face to face.

* * *

After Robb's arrival at Castle Black, the two brothers caught up for an hour or so while the Northerners hastily put up a camp and defences stretching down the Kingsroad. The pair waited in the courtyard of Castle Black as the lift was in constant use, as hundreds upon hundreds of Northern archers were sent up to the top of the Wall, commanded by Arthur Glenmore.

"So, this Ygritte, I'd recognise her?" Robb asked. Jon scoffed with a smirk.

"Aye, hair kissed by fire." Jon said.

"I'll keep an eye out, but I can't promise anything." Robb told him.

"I understand. She doesn't deserve this, to die when all they are after is to flee Southwards." Jon said.

Robb could sense his tone. "You love her, don't you? You truly love her." Jon just nodded, and nothing else needed saying. The final archers were being led into the lift, and Robb gripped Jon's forearm in a mark of respect. "I'll see you soon brother."

Jon nodded. "Lord Stark." He grinned jovially, causing Robb to roll his eyes. Jon entered the lift, and Robb watched on as the gate closed and rose up the Wall, before Robb focused on the battle ahead.

Making his way into the Northern camp, he was happy to see the few Night's Watch men remaining mixing happily with the forces of the North. He soon spotted the Greatjon helping Pyp and Sam with the crossbow.

"Take two, and have one man reloading while the other shoots. It's more efficient." Umber was teaching. "Who's the better shot?"

The two Watchmen looked nervously between themselves, and Robb intervened. "Give them a target, Lord Umber, we have some time."

"Aye." Umber nodded, looking around. He spotted a bird flying overhead. "That there, aim for the owl."

The pair both aimed the crossbows and fired almost simultaneously, with one bolt going harmlessly wide, and the other clipping it's wing sending it to the floor. Pyp rushed to get it, and brought the screeching bird towards them.

"Put it out of its misery." Robb ordered, and the Greatjon brought out a knife. Robb noticed the bird's eyes flash white however, and wasn't the only one.

"Seven hells…" Sam whispered.

"What?" Pyp asked.

"The bird… Warg…" Sam explained.

Robb was confused. "I thought Jon killed their Warg?"

Sam shook his head. "With there being so many Wildlings, they'd have a dozen capable most likely. Mance may have sent another over the Wall."

"What nonsense is this." Umber laughed.

"They're real, Jon." Robb told the man, looking towards Grey Wind unknowingly. "They know we are here."

Silence fell over the men for a moment, before Lord Umber flew into action. "Man the barricades men! I want archers, I want pikes, I want all you fuckers on your toes now! Get your arses into gear!" He roared at the camp. Robb moved over to his Direwolf as the men rushed around him. He touched his head to the wolfs, and just closed his eyes for a moment, before the distant noise of shouts could be heard from the castle behind them, and smoke could be seen from beyond the Wall.

"It's time." He told Grey Wind, and made his way to his horse. A small force of mounted men met him as he mounted up and turned to face them. "Today we make even more history! We will repel these Wildling invaders! We will protect the North! Like the Kings Beyond the Wall before him, Mance Rayder will be defeated, and it will start with this victory tonight!"

The men cheered, and Robb turned back down to face Southwards, as flaming arrows could be seen heading towards them. Whipping the reigns, his horse neighed and began to gallop towards the onrushing small army of Wildlings. Unsheathing his longsword, he held it upwards to signal that the makeshift gate was to be opened, as the few dozen on horseback raced out of the camp. He could hear the roar of the men at arms behind them, but his focus was narrowed towards the barely lit up men in furs in front of him.

As they neared, he slashed his sword downwards, connecting with the inner shoulder of a bearded brunette. The screams began then, as the forces clashed. Robb didn't stop for a moment, as his sword connected with another Wildling's chest, before rearing his horse to miss a swinging axe, and shifting his body to stab at the wielder on his left-hand side, connecting with his eye socket.

He could see more arrows flying in, and as he manoeuvred his horse around the battlefield, he saw three of his men fall to a fierce red headed warrior in quick succession.

"Hyaah!" Robb roared, charging his horse towards the man. He went for the kill, but the red head moved deftly out the way of the horse. Another pass was made, and Robb again missed, only just managing to keep his horse from the Wildling sword. As he turned around again, he saw a spearman to his right. "Spear!" He ordered, and the soldier threw the spear, picking up another from a fallen Northman to continue fighting. Robb meanwhile, twirled the spear in his hands to hold it tightly, before he charged again. He saw the man get into a defensive stance, and didn't wait to be near. Robb threw the spear with all his might, before bringing his sword back out. The red head somehow managed to deflect the spear, but the action knocked him off balance and Robb capitalised, slashing his blade across the neck of the Wildling.

His relief was brought to a quick halt however, as soon a feminine roar was heard, and he noticed a woman with red hair quickly getting ready to nock an arrow. He charged his horse towards her, but she was quicker, and Robb had to be equally as quick in springing from the Horse. He noticed she was nocking another arrow, and scrambled over to take cover by the dying horse, reaching for the shield that he had placed on its side. Suddenly pain shot through his shoulder, as an arrow embedded itself in the snow in front of him. Looking down, he noticed his shoulder had opened slightly. Grimacing, he hauled himself up, and caught an arrow in the Stark shield. Running towards the woman, he caught another arrow before bringing his sword down, only to be met by her bow.

"I don't want to kill you!" He shouted. "Lay down your weapon and I'll take you to Jon!"

Her eyes widened slightly at Jon's name, before she swung her bow again. Robb caught the blow with his shield, before punching her on the side of the head with his plated fist. Ygritte dropped to the ground unconscious.

Robb turned and saw the battlefield in front of him. He could Grey Wind leaping at his prey, he could also see the Greatjon, coated in blood and holding the crushed skull of an imposing Thenn, holding the enemy's axe in his spare hand. The remaining Wildling's were being slaughtered, and Robb breathed easier, as the battle outside the castle was won.

* * *

After the battle, Robb regrouped with the Greatjon, and was hearing all about his epic battle with the Thenn.

"The bastard was strong, very strong." He was saying. "He knocked me down and disarmed me, but I never gave up. I lashed out and broke his wrist so he dropped that damned axe, and crushed his fucking skull with my own hands!" He laughed. "Big bastard."

"I wish I'd have seen it." Robb admitted. He saw Sam, sat down with tears in his eyes. Pyp was lying next to him, eyes wide open and lifeless as an arrow was in his neck. Robb closed his eyes in a moment of mourning, before opening them again. "Tarly."

"My… my Lord." Sam sniffed.

"Over by that hill there." Robb pointed towards the hill he had fought Ygritte at. "Is Jon's woman. She's unconscious at the moment, but I want you to take a couple of my men and secure her tightly in my tent and my tent only okay?"

"She's alive?" Sam asked.

Robb nodded. "I figure Jon needs to see her before we decide what to do."

Sam nodded, and Robb placed his hand on the man's shoulder, before making his way back into Castle Black.

Jon was in the courtyard talking to a bloodied Smalljon Umber. At the sight of Robb, Jon was immediately relieved, and the two made their way to one another and hugged once more.

"You survived then." Jon said.

"Barely." Robb laughed. "Your woman got me good." He gestured to his red soaked shoulder.

Jon looked alarmed. "Is she…"

"In my tent, alive." Robb reassured him. "When things settle, we can discuss things."

Jon was relieved again, and Robb heard the Greatjon exclaim. "What the fuck happened to you boy?"

Smalljon grinned, his left eye swollen and purple. "Only went and killed a fucking giant didn't I."

Robb was shocked, and the Greatjon had his eyes wide in surprised, before he belted out a roaring laugh. "Fuck off." He shouted.

"No, he did." Jon nodded. "They almost breached the gate. 10 men went down, Jon delivered the killing blow."

The Greatjon beamed with pride, and put his arm around his son's shoulder leading him out to the Northern army. "Oi cunts listen up! Come here the story of Smalljon Giantsbane!"

Robb just laughed at the display. "He'll be talking of this till he dies."

"We lost many brothers tonight." Jon sighed. "They just tested the Wall too, more will come tomorrow, and the next night, and the next."

Robb nodded. "And we can fight them back. We can focus on the North now."

"But do we need to?" Jon asked. Robb was confused, so Jon carried on. "All they want is to flee the Walkers."

Robb let out a snort. "You don't believe in myths now do you? Have you been fighting Grumpkins and Snarks too?"

Jon wasn't amused. "Don't jest." He warned. "They slaughtered us at the Fist of the First Men. Sam's fought one too. Why do you think the Wildlings have all banded together for the first time in history?"

Robb wasn't convinced. "But White Walkers, they're one of Nan's stories, they aren't real."

"They are." Jon said ominously. "This war, this means nothing. The war down South, that means nothing. The true war is yet to come and we need all men to be united if we are to have a chance."


	26. Summerhall

Fortuitously, Viserys had accepted the offer of a parlay, and a couple of weeks after arriving at Fawnton, Durran found himself staring up at the charred husk of Summerhall. There was a slight breeze that almost sang through the burnt castle, a sound that was almost haunting to Durran. Next to him stood Stannis, Ser Barristan and Randyll Tarly, as Durran wanted to show off the strength of his command.

"This is where my Father won three battles in a single day then." Durran said in awe, as the Targaryen party were but specs in the distance. "Incredible."

Nobody said anything, as they waited for the Targaryen party to get closer. Durran recognised Oberyn Martell, and guessed that Viserys was the silver haired man with the sleek black and red armour, but he didn't recognise the other two. Ser Barristan recognised the ginger man however.

"Connington?" He asked, surprised. "I thought you were dead."

"I would have rather died than turned my cloak, traitor." The man Connington spat.

Viserys turned to the man. "Now Jon, let us not fall to petty insults straight away. We can wait until the Usurper's spawn bends the knee before then."

Durran just grinned. "Funny, I was going to say the same for when you bent the knee towards me and your sister."

Viserys' smug façade fell briefly. "I'll get her back after I'm done with you." He promised.

Stannis cleared his throat. "We are here for a parlay, not a bickering contest." He said. "Viserys Targaryen. King Durran Baratheon, the First of his Name would ask you and your party to bend the knee and proclaim him the rightful King of Westeros. House Martell will be reaffirmed as rulers of Dorne, and you shall be given Dragonstone, to be held by you and your heirs from this day until the end of time."

Viserys chuckled again. "You think you can buy me off with Dragonstone?" He asked Durran.

"It's your ancestral seat." Durran shrugged. "It currently sits empty, gathering dust. Who better to sit in its halls?" He intentionally insulted.

Viserys' features grew dark. "I can see it was a waste of time." He spat. "I promise you, Baratheon. I will find you tomorrow, and when I do, you shall taste the steel of Blackfyre." He partially revealed his Valyrian Steel sword, and Durran almost let on that he was surprised to see the lost Targaryen sword. "Then I shall take my city, sit on my throne and take back my sister-wife, and fuck her underneath your mounted head."

Durran's eyes glazed over with anger, but Stannis took point. "This is your last chance. Bend the knee or we will destroy you tomorrow on the battlefield."

Oberyn grinned. "Stern Stannis, you seem so sure. Your men are tired and lust for their homes and their women. Ours are strong and looking forward to slaughtering your family as recompense for Elia."

"Elia was murdered by Ser Gregor Clegane." Stannis said strongly. "A man that has not been seen since the death of Tywin Lannister. You're looking in the wrong place if you want justice, Prince Oberyn."

"Your fat Brother stepped over the body of Elia and her children to sit his arse on that chair." Oberyn spat. His eyes angrier than anything Durran had ever seen. "I will gladly repay the favour to every Baratheon to see the rightful heir sit the Iron Throne."

"There's no more to be said then." Durran exclaimed. He looked around at the ruin of Summerhall. "Take it in, Brother." He nodded to Viserys, angering him by reminding him of Dany. "This place will see yet another Targaryen fail."

"We shall see Baratheon." Viserys said, turning his horse back around. "We shall see!"

The unknown, quiet man followed him first, with Connington glaring at Ser Barristan a final time, and Oberyn took a step towards them, offering a sly grin before riding off with the rest of them. Stannis turned to Durran. "Well, I hope that pointless exercise got you exactly what you wanted."

Durran nodded. "It did. He's vain, he's arrogant, but he's determined. He'll throw everything he has at me from the start."

"I still don't like the elephants." Randyll Tarly said.

"The Belfry's are prepared. Lord Beric promises his men are ready." Stannis said.

"They better be, it seems like we've cut down half of the Kingswood for this." Durran said. "The new weapons?"

Randyll Tarly answered. "Are being tested constantly. They are working, Your Grace, the men are prepared and their aim is good."

"Good." Durran answered. "Taking down those elephants are our main priority, I don't want to have to bring in the Dragons for that."

* * *

Dany was sat in the Small Council chamber, and looked around at the fairly empty room. Pycelle was dozing off in his seat, and the only other members of the full council that weren't at Fawnton were Varys and Mace Tyrell. For that reason, she had invited Cersei in to lighten the load a touch.

Varys was reading from a letter. "Lord Anders has agreed to the King's suggestion, and will turn his cloak for Ghaston Grey."

"The prison island?" Cersei asked, bemused. "Why in Seven Hells would he want that cess pit."

Dany shrugged. "It is of no use to us, he can have his island." She told Varys. "Is there anything else?"

"The penultimate harvest has been counted. Your Grace." Lord Tyrell told them. "We shall have plenty of food for a six-year winter."

Dany nodded, thanking the Lord.

"There is a small matter from the North, Your Grace." Pycelle said. He feebly reached into his robes and pulled a roll of parchment. "Lord Stark has taken 5,000 men to the Wall and they have successfully held off the King Beyond the Wall's initial attack."

Cersei scoffed. "Barbarians with clubs. He should have brought his men Southwards to aid the King."

Dany shook her head. "What does the report say?" Pycelle handed her the raven letter. "They sent men over the Wall and they attacked from the North and the South, now they only have 100,000 men in the North to worry about. 100,000? Is that possible?"

"They are mere savages, Your Grace." Pycelle said. "If the Maester didn't think they could be handled with Lord Stark's men, he would have asked for aid."

Dany nodded. "Very well. We shall convene again in a couple of days, My Lords."

Varys and Mace Tyrell were quickly out of the room, with Pycelle a little slower. Dany got up and walked out with her mother in law.

"A letter came today from Durran." Dany said. She handed Cersei the parchment. "Tommen wrote a part for you."

Cersei hastily grabbed it, and Dany watched as her green eyes darted across the page. Cersei breathed out a laugh at the end. "He says he's going to bring me a flower from the Stormlands."

Dany smiled back. "It's hard to remember how young we all are sometimes."

Cersei nodded. "It still feels like yesterday when I birthed Durran, now he is the King with a child of his own, Myrcella is to be wed and Tommen is Lord Lannister. I can scarce believe it."

Dany placed a hand on Cersei's shoulder. "You raised the three well." She said.

Cersei's eyes flashed sadly for a brief second. "Perhaps. Excuse me." She said, as she walked out of view briskly. Dany guessed she was off to visit Joffrey's grave, but quickly paid it no mind. She made her way to her chambers and relieved the servant of babysitting duties, picking up baby Elaenor and staring out to the city, her mind worried on events that were due to happen in the South.

* * *

After arriving back at the camp just to the North of Summerhall, Durran immediately went to find his Brother in the small Lannister part of the camp. It was strange to see him in similar clothes to all the other Westerland squires, but it brought a smile to Durran's face seeing him struggle with polishing Ser Devan's armour. The other squires all seemed to stop when Durran and Ser Arys got closer, but Tommen was far too invested in the polishing.

"Circles." Durran said, making Tommen to realise he had company. "Polish it in small circles, here."

Durran took the cloth from Tommen and showed him the technique before handing the cloth back.

"Thank you." Tommen said. "It's hard work!"

Durran chuckled. "We were fortunate to be born as we were, but the life of a squire is to teach people like us some humility. I had to do it too with Stannis."

Tommen nodded, and continued to polish the armour. Durran looked around and noticed all the other squires were now using the circle technique, causing him to grin. A few minutes passed as Durran just spent time sat with his brother, until Tommen looked up again.

"We aren't going to die tomorrow, are we?" He asked.

Durran was surprised at the question, and placed his hand firmly on Tommen's shoulders. "No Tommen. I promise. You all will be far away from the battle, looking after the camp."

"It seems a bit… cowardly." Tommen added.

Durran nodded. "Perhaps, but you are 12 years old, and none of your friends here are older than 15. One day you will be by my side leading the Westerlands into battle, but that day is not today. Right now, you are here to learn, to meet your men and drink with them in a camp environment, to learn the values of being a knight and to understand why we must do this. The fighting comes later for you, when Ser Daven feels you are ready."

Tommen nodded, and Durran could sense that the other squires were listening in intently. He stood up and addressed them. "Some of you may feel like you belong in the battle, but I promise you your role is far too important than to have you in the midst of a battle. I'm trusting you all to keep this camp running, and when we return it will be your jobs to aid us with the wounded. Can I count on you all?"

They all nodded eagerly and shouted. "Yes, Your Grace!"

Smiling, Durran replied. "Good, now get to work on this armour, your knights will need them in excellent condition tomorrow." Afterwards, he turned to Tommen. "I likely won't see you until after the battle, so look after yourself. These squires look up to you, so be the Lord you are and help them, support them, and lead them when they need it."

Tommen nodded. "Come back." He pleaded.

Durran smiled, and hugged his brother. "I will, I promise." Releasing the 12-year-old, he walked away with his Kingsguard.

"You shouldn't have promised." Arys said. "In the thick of battle you can never know."

Durran nodded. "He needed to hear it. He needed the confidence and the belief that my promise will give him."

"Your Grace." Arys bowed his head as they walked. "It was a fine speech."

Durran smirked briefly. "Sometimes being a squire seems like you're just a slave to your Lord, make them feel important and they'll perform twice as hard."

Again, Arys bowed his head at the perceived wisdom of his King. They walked through the camp, stopping at certain points to have brief conversation with the soldiers in his army, until they arrived at Durran's tent when the sun fell from the sky. He stood while his squire for the battle, his Mother's cousin Tyrek, removed his old, black plate armour.

"How old are you now, Tyrek?" Durran asked.

"17, Your Grace." Tyrek answered. "I also served your Father."

"A few months older than I am then." Durran chuckled. "Yes, I remember you serving King Robert. You're a bit old for a squire. How is your swordplay?"

Tyrek waited a moment before answering. "I can hold my own, Your Grace."

Durran grinned. "We shall see. You fight with Ser Daven tomorrow. Survive, and I'll finally knight you."

Durran could see Tyrek try and hide his grin in the mirror. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"But until then, you're still a squire." Durran reminded, and Tyrek nodded and the squire went about his work, taking the armour away and leaving Durran alone in his tent. He took out a book about the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, and tried to will himself to sleep, to no avail.

* * *

He managed a couple of hours, enough to manage throughout the battle. With his brand new white mailed armour on that gave him extra movement, Durran was sat on his horse on the front lines. He watched on as the Golden Company and Martell forces marched forwards, halting noisily in the distance. Summerhall could be seen behind them in the mountains.

Looking to his left, he nodded at Ser Barristan before putting his antlered helm on, making sure he could see properly. Turning back to Ser Barristan, he asked. "Are we ready?"

"Yes, Your Grace." The old knight replied. "Lord Stannis is waiting in reserve, hidden well enough with the Stormlanders. Lord Garlan is eager for blood on the right, and Lord Randyll is prepared on the left."

Durran nodded. "May the Warrior guide us this day my friends." He spoke to his Kingsguard, before raising his voice to bellow for all his troops to hear. "BELFRY'S. ADVANCE!"

* * *

"BELFRY'S. ADVANCE."

Stefan heard the call, and turned to his second in command. "Advance Ser." As the men began to spring into action, he stepped towards the edge of the tower as it rolled.

Hastily put up, a total of ten movable towers had been erected with three floors. The bottom two held ballista's, massive crossbows that could penetrate stone walls if needed. The top held a weapon that had apparently originated in Yi Ti, and an architect had been found by the Spider to build a number. A miniature trebuchet used to fling projectiles distances known as a mangonel. The Marcher Lords had been put on the towers, and Stefan looked across both ways to see the other 9 of them roll forwards at a similar pace.

Turning to the crew of the mangonel, Stefan said. "Remember, aim for the elephants when you can. We want them taken out before they can reach our main forces."

"Yes milord." The men replied, before they set up the contraption. Looking behind him, he could see the army refilling the gaps as the belfry towers moved beyond the troops. Once they had refilled the gaps, they began moving forwards at a similar pace, noisily chanting and banging shields and spears together as they marched.

Turning back to the enemy, he saw them advancing also. "GET READY TO FIRE!" he screamed. The men loaded the mangonel, and he could hear the ballista below him being cranked. Waiting a moment until they were in range, he screamed. "LOOSE!"

The men yanked the cord as hard as they could, and Stefan watched the chunk of rock soar into the air. The men didn't stop and watch, as they hastily reset the weapon. The rock smashed into the front lines, taking out a couple of Golden Company soldiers. "And again!" He ordered. "Loose!"

Four volleys of rock were sent before the opposition were close enough to use the ballista's, and to devastating effect. Stefan watched on as his tower loosed a bolt into the leading elephant's leg, causing it to roar in pain, before the second buried itself deeply into the skull with a deafening crunch. Stefan felt ill, but looked around at a number of other elephants falling, leaving only three remaining in reserve. Stefan could see men rushing to prepare them, and grinned at the devastation caused. The problem with the ballista were its load time however, and one surviving elephant at the front used the time to charge forward, crushing dozens of its own men and evading a falling rock before smashing its body into the Dondarrion tower to Stefan's left.

Wood splintered, as the contraption fell apart. "Beric…" Stefan gasped as he watched more Stormlander men succumbing to death as the elephant rampaged. Another tower fell to a large boulder too. "They have siege weapons!" A man screamed.

"Abandon the tower! Burn it to ash!" Stefan roared as the final stage of the tower plan was enacted. The men started creating sparks to set the tower alight, and they quickly made it out the back of the tower, leaving them burning and still moving slowly towards the onrushing Targaryen forces. Stefan withdrew his sword. "Regroup to me!" He roared, as he awaited the onrushing enemy.

* * *

Edric Dayne felt a bit wrong. In Reachman plate armour, but at least he had his purple surcoat of House Dayne. As the men advanced in a line, he looked forwards and saw the banner of House Dayne of High Hermitage opposing him. His focus remained solely on that until the crackle of flames came the Belfry's to his left. That was the signal, and he heard Garlan Tyrell shout. "CHARGE!"

He jeered his horse forwards, galloping at pace as he unsheathed his sword. Arrows flew over their heads as they charged towards the Dornish, impacting in the front few lines and allowing gaps in the Dornish defence for them to exploit. Edric leaned to his right and swung his sword as hard as he could, feeling it impact with a Dornishman. Gaining his balance again, he charged towards the Dayne troops, spotting the man that had slaughtered his family, Gerold Dayne. The Darkstar was racing forwards as well. As his vision narrowed and his breathing slowed down, he swung his sword at the Darkstar.

His sword was met by Dawn, the ancient sword of House Dayne. "THAT DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU!" He roared.

"Come and get it." Gerold Darkstar grinned, and the swords clashed once more. Edric put all his might into his swings, expertly moving his horse into range. He slashed and parried, growing angrier and angrier as the duel on horseback went on. The Darkstar was grinning wildly. "Useless! No wonder you fled! Your weak Mother put up more of a fight before I raped her and cut her to pieces for defying the True King!"

"AAAARRGHHH!" Edric roared, as he got his foot out of the stirrups and leapt from his horse towards the Darkstar, tackling him from his horse. Edric fell to the ground with a thud, also hearing a snap on his way down as the Darkstar roared in pain. The younger Dayne looked over at his family's murderer and saw that his leg had snapped in the stirrups. Edric stood and grabbed his sword, walking over to the Darkstar, who was waving Dawn around in anguish. "You shall hurt no-one else." Edric snarled. "For my Mother!" He parried Dawn to one side, watching it clatter to the ground. Picking that up too, he dropped his sword and held Dawn in his hands for the first time, feeling empowered at having the sword in his hands. "For my Father!" He roared, bringing Dawn down into the heart of Gerold Dayne.

He released the sword, wedged in the torso of the Darkstar as he watched the man grow lifeless. Breathing a sigh of relief as the body moved no more, he took Dawn back and held it aloft, watching as the Dayne soldiers around him stopped fighting their enemy and started chanting for the Sword of the Morning.

"The tyranny of the Darkstar is finished! Do your duty to House Dayne and follow me now!" Edric roared. "You will all be forgiven for his crimes once King Durran is victorious!"

Some refused, but the majority looked around and saw they had been outnumbered, and Tyrell troops were closing in. "Edric! Edric!" Was the chant coming from a few, before more of them joined in.

"For Starfall!" Edric shouted, and the Dayne men repeated the cry before they flew into battle again.

* * *

Stefan and his Marcher forces had moved to join Randyll Tarly on the left, Together, the Tarly and Stormland forces pushed through the lines, and Stefan's sword was covered in red. His attention was taken by a roar of an elephant, as one of the last remaining beasts was taken down yet again by the best archers the realm had to offer. Not for the first time he was thankful to Anguy the archer.

His blade was soon met by that of a large red-haired man that looked to be a leader. The man growled. "You have the Baratheon look." Stefan remembered his Father talking to him last night about the commanders at the parlay.

"Connington." He replied. "Your nephew is somewhere here, you would fight your own blood?"

"For Rhaegar's own blood? Always." The man replied, swinging his sword down fiercely. Stefan met it with his own, and the two Stormlanders duelled. The clash of swords filling the younger man's ears as he had to focus on all his training to keep up with the surprisingly nimble Connington. Spotting what he perceived to be an opening, minutes into the duel, he feinted towards the left and slashed out, only to be knocked back and have a mailed fist smashed into his face.

Flying backwards, Stefan landed on the body of a Reachman with a thud. Groaning, he brought his now sword less remaining hand up to inspect the damage, and felt blood trickle from his nose. Wiping it away, he saw the blurry figure of Connington approaching him, and held his metal arm out to block the blow.

The sword bounced off the arm with a clang, and as his vision returned to him, Stefan could see that Connington was surprised. Blocking a fiercer blow with his arm again, Stefan punched out, striking Connington in the face. His Baratheon strength showing as Connington staggered away. Stefan reached behind his back and pulled out a small blade, thrusting it into the side of Connington.

The Commander of the Golden Company fell to his knees and Stefan pressed the advantage. Kicking out at Connington's balancing leg, he straddled the now prone man and used his metal arm to repeatedly punch Connington in the face. Punch after punch was unleashed, before most resistance had subsided and Connington was barely clinging on to life. Eager to end the fight then and there, Stefan took his knife and plunged it directly into Connington's eye, ending him.

* * *

Meanwhile, over the other side of the battlefield, Garlan Tyrell was locked in an epic duel with the heir of Sunspear. Trystane Martell was a good swordsman, and Garlan was letting the Martell be on the attack as he tried to analyse him for a weakness. Parrying to the left, he noticed that the young man favoured his right too much. As Trystane swung in again, Garlan held up his golden rose shield, blocking the swing, before he slashed at Trystane's knee. The Martell fell to his knees, grimacing in pain. Garlan stood tall, catching his breath. He noticed that the Martell was going to lash out with his sword, so he kicked the hand of Trystane, hearing a crunch of bone before he swung his sword in his hand, and plunged it into the neck of the Martell.

Withdrawing it, he moved on, and to his right he could see Tyrell after Tyrell fall in quick succession. He made his way through a number of Martell spearmen, slashing and stabbing until they fell until he was feet away from Prince Oberyn.

"A Tyrell come to taste my spear." Oberyn grinned. "How fitting."

Garlan shook his head. "My blade has already tasted a Martell Prince's blood today, Prince Oberyn. It shall do so again."

He watched as Oberyn's eyes blazed red. "You shall pay Tyrell. Once I am done with you, none of your blood shall live long." He growled before swinging his spear. Garlan anticipated the movement however, and blocked it with his shield, and again with his sword on the return. Knowing he had to get in closer, he tucked his arms in and crouched slightly behind his shield making less of a target. Oberyn was twirling his spear with precision. "Your fancy knights play won't save you." He taunted.

Garlan ignored him, and blocked the incoming spear again. He stabbed out with his sword quickly, being knocked aside by the spear before retreating and getting back into stance. He tried again, knocking the spear out of the way with his shield before stabbing out again. Oberyn swiftly jumped and dived over the sword however, causing Garlan to have to turn quickly, but not quick enough as Oberyn's spear slashed at Garlan's side, scratching him slightly.

Garlan got back into his defensive stance, once again rushing forwards to try and break Oberyn, but again it was no use as the Martell danced away from his blade. "Are you feeling strange, Tyrell?" He asked.

Garlan didn't know what he was meaning, but pushed forwards again. This time, Oberyn's overconfidence was key, and Garlan let a volley of swings loose, managing to cut Oberyn's face slightly. This enraged the Martell, who smashed Garlan in the helmet with the butt of his spear. Garlan went tumbling to the ground, and as he went to get up, his arm gave way.

"Poison." Oberyn said, leaning over him.

"You dishonourable…" Garlan began, before he had to cough. A thick liquid could be felt inside the helmet, and Garlan guessed it was blood. It was harder for him to breath now, as his sword fell from his fingers. Suddenly a sharp pain from just inside his hip flew through his body, and he looked down to see the spear protruding from him. He reached up to try and grab Oberyn, but his arms dropped down to the ground as the life left him.

* * *

The left flank was holding, and the King and the vanguard were pushing through the lines successfully, but Ser Rolland Storm was looking over towards the right flank and seeing the orange waves of Martell troops overrunning the Tyrell forces. Already angry at the sight of the Caron belfry being peppered by rock and not knowing if his half-brother was alive, he rode forwards to Stannis Baratheon.

"My Lord, the Right flank needs our aid." He said. "I beseech you, send in the cavalry."

Stannis took out his far-eye and looked over. "Prince Oberyn." He commented. "He is holding a head aloft."

He handed Rolland the device, and he looked through it to see Garlan Tyrell's head being thrown unceremoniously to the ground. "Lord Garlan." He commented.

"Then yes, Ser Rolland. Prepare the men. We will ride for the right. Light the signal fire and bring the Yronwoods to our side and join us."

"At once, Lord Hand." Rolland nodded, whipping the reigns and galloping over to the large bonfire they had prepared as a signal. Taking a torch, he threw it on the kindling, and without waiting he re-joined the lines of charging cavalry.

They charged down the hill in unison, rows of five keeping time with one another. Cheering and making as much noise as possible, Rolland noted that inside the battlefield the Dornish were turning on themselves, as Yronwood and Blackmont soldiers betrayed their Martell liege lords. Rolland reached up and pulled down his visor and withdrew his sword. The cavalry led by Stannis Baratheon crashed into the fray, as Rolland slashed his sword across the neck of a Dornishman, before swinging upwards, and opening the side of another.

He soon found himself racing around on his horse, savagely striking out at any in Dornish colours that faced him, until his horse buckled, and he had to launch himself away from the dying animal. Bringing his Greatsword up quickly, he looked around for the attacker, and saw Oberyn Martell, his face covered in blood from a scratch above his eye. Twirling his sword, Rolland said a quick prayer to the Warrior and leapt in.

Deftly parrying the spear away, he noted how aggressive the Martell was, remembering from tourneys he favoured grace over power. Presuming it was down to the betrayal of Houses Yronwood and Blackmont, Rolland tried to work that into an advantage. He was being forced backwards, parrying blow after blow and deftly evading the metal tip of the spear, but as Oberyn went to leap at him with a stabbing motion, Rolland rolled out the way before bringing his body around with his back to the Martell, and slashing to his side at the spear embedded in the dirt. The spear was snapped in two, and Oberyn was surprised briefly, before gasping as Rolland had twisted the sword in his hands, and thrusting it backwards into the Martell Prince's gut.

Retrieving his sword, he turned around to watch as Oberyn held his hands to his wound, before looking up at his opponent. "Who…"

"Ser Rolland Storm." He replied strongly.

Oberyn grinned, as blood started pooling at his mouth. "Killed… killed by a pox scarred bastard. How amusing."

Rolland grimaced at the reminder, and raised his sword before bringing it down forcefully across Oberyn's neck, and he watched as the body slumped to the ground, before he turned to find his next opponent.

* * *

The problem with Durran's glistening white surcoat and huge stag antlers is that he was a clear target. The battle raged and he had been rushed numerous times, but mounted on horseback he held them all off. That was until an arrow found his horses eye.

His Kingsguard had surrounded him, and together the five of them carved their way through the Golden Company forces. The balding man that Durran hadn't known at the parlay had fallen to Ser Arys, the bear sigil on his chest plate giving him away as the disgraced Lord of Bear Island that had sold slaves. They were winning the fight, but in the distance the last push of the Company looked like it was coming, and Durran spotted the black and red armour of Viserys.

As battle rage clouded him, he ignored the cry of Ser Barristan as he was brought to the ground by a company member, ducked below a stray Marcher arrow that embedded itself in that same soldier, saving Ser Barristan's life, and instead pushed beyond the defensive figures of Ser Balon Swann and Ser Podrick Payne, and carved his way brutally through the enemy forces, with his eyes mostly trained on the mounted figure of Viserys, just joining the battle.

Durran ran, and watched on as Viserys spotted him and turned his horse to charge at Durran. Flexing his fingers on the hilt of Stormbringer Durran got ready, and as the horse was within distance, Durran barely dodged the swing of Blackfyre, feeling one of the antlers on his helm fly off, and sliced off the hind legs of Viserys' horse.

Twisting around, he watched as the Targaryen rose from the ground, taking off his sword belt and throwing it away. He pointed his sword out at Durran. "You'll pay for that."

Durran didn't respond, just roared as he swung the sword around his head and lashed out at Viserys, Stormbringer meeting Blackfyre. The blades met time and time again, as the two hacked at one another with everything they had. The blades locked together briefly, before Durran kept the Greatsword in his right hand and threw a punch with his left. Viserys staggered back, and Durran pushed forwards.

"It didn't have to be like this!" Durran roared. "I am not my Father! You could have lived peacefully at Dragonstone and gotten to know your sister! Your Niece!"

Viserys spat blood on the ground. "My sister has been whored and manipulated by you! Her place was with me, and instead you defiled her!"

"She made her choice! She could have left, she could have joined you as soon as she knew where you were but she didn't!" Durran exclaimed. He started laughing, and held his arms wide. "She chose me. She chose her family!"

Viserys grinned. "She'll choose me once I bring her your head and free her from your grasp."

Durran snarled and threw all his force behind his next blow. Viserys threw Blackfyre up to block, and what happened next shocked them both.

As the blades connected, a loud shatter filled the ears of the Baratheon King as the Valyrian edge of Blackfyre carved Stormbringer's blade in two. Durran was left with around a fifth of the Greatsword left. Staring in disbelief, he looked up and saw Viserys laughing and staring at Blackfyre in wonder.

"The blade of Kings!" He shouted, only to be distracted by men in Golden Company colours running Southwards.

Durran looked around, and heard the shout. "Lord Connington and Prince Oberyn are dead! It's hopeless!"

Viserys could also hear it. "No! No! I am still here! I am your King! Stand and fight!" He briefly turned around at the fleeing soldiers, and Durran pounced.

He jammed his broken blade through Viserys' left hamstring. The Targaryen roared in pain, but Durran grabbed him in a choke hold, his left arm around Viserys' neck and his hand gripping the wrist that held Blackfyre. Squeezing the wrist, Durran made Viserys drop the weapon, before stomping on the stronger leg, forcing the Targaryen to his knees.

"It's over, Viserys!" He exclaimed, before repeating the words to himself. "It's over."

Looking around he saw the still burning husks of the towers, the elephant carcasses scattered around the battlefield, and the mounted forces with Baratheon banners chasing down the fleeing soldiers. The scale of the area they had fought in was massive, nothing like anything Durran had seen before. The cheers rang out at that moment, as Ser Arys, Ser Podrick and Ser Balon caught up with Durran.

"Sers, take him away, but treat him as you would a Lord." He ordered. The three nodded, and though Viserys struggled, the pain from his leg and wrist were too great to be of effect. Durran watched him be dragged away, only to see Ser Barristan hobbling towards him being held up by an archer. "Ser Barristan. I'm glad to see you living." He said, catching his breath.

"I wouldn't be if it was not for this archer here." The old knight said. "I owe him my life."

Durran looked, and recognised the archer that his cousin was so fond of. "Anguy, right?"

Anguy looked surprised. "Yes, Your Grace."

Durran patted him on the shoulder. "I'm in your debt, you've done a great deed today."

He took one final look around the battlefield, and nodded to himself. Thousands may have died on both sides, but the last true threat to his rule was in custody. They had the victory.


	27. A Lion's Roar

The morning after the battle at Castle Black, Robb was writing a letter to King's Landing, wishing to update Durran on the problems in the North. Scribbling his name on the bottom of the parchment, he rolled it up and sealed it with the Direwolf seal, before putting it away in his cloak and leaving the chambers he had been given by the Night's Watch.

He looked down to the courtyard and saw Northmen and Watchmen alike separating the dead into their respective factions. The Night's Watch were preparing to burn their dead, whereas Robb was sending the dead Northmen back to their homes to be buried, as was tradition.

He noticed Jon and Sam Tarly talking heatedly, and walked down to see them both.

"He won't just kill you!" Robb heard Sam say when he was within earshot. "They'll, boil you. They'll flay you! They'll make it last days!"

Jon turned, and without noticing Robb he looked at Sam sadly. "You're right." He admitted. "It's a bad plan. What's your plan?"

Robb interjected as he got closer. "Something a lot smarter than whatever it is you are trying to do." He said strongly. "What's going on."

"It's Night's Watch business, Lord Stark." Jon said, annoyed.

Robb narrowed his eyes. "I told you not to call me that. What's going on?" He repeated.

"Jon is going to kill Mance Rayder." Sam explained, shrugging at the look Jon gave him.

Robb just laughed. "You'll never get near him. You're a traitor to them remember."

Jon wasn't amused. "Well what do you recommend then!" He exclaimed.

Robb thought for a moment. "They are only fighting to get South of the Wall to run away from the Walkers you say are real, aye?"

Jon nodded. "Aye."

"Then it's simple. We meet with this Mance Rayder and suggest that it could be possible to make that happen without bloodshed." Robb said, not really believing the words coming out of his own mouth. "If we can agree to this amicably, then wonderful."

Sam was unsure. "They'll still never let any of you through to talk to them."

Robb nodded, and was trying to think of a way around it when Jon whispered. "Ygritte."

"What about her?" Robb asked.

"They'll talk to us if we gift her back." Jon said. "I'll bring her with me."

Robb nodded. "Sam, can you go and find Lady Mormont and have her bring me ten men willing to go North of the Wall and the prisoner. Give her this so she knows it's genuine." He handed her the Direwolf seal. Sam nodded, and waddled off at pace. Jon looked at Robb suspiciously. "What?"

"You're sending me with a guard." Jon said pointedly, unhappy.

"Not at all." Robb told him. "These are my men, they're coming with me when I join you." Jon looked to argue, but Robb cut him off. "You have no authority to offer them lands and peace in the Seven Kingdom's. I am Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I have that authority but I don't know how to talk to them. Ygritte can get us through, you can get us talking to Mance Rayder."

* * *

It took time to convince Jon, and even more time to convince Ygritte, but eventually Robb won them over enough to get them agree and they made their way through the Wall and into the Haunted Forest. They were ambushed, but the presence of Ygritte kept them alive as they were led through the forest to Mance Rayder's tent.

A dark-haired man dressed in the same furs as all of his men came out of the tent and stopped before Ygritte and Jon. He looked Jon up and down. "You're wearing a black cloak again." He commented.

Jon didn't budge. "We've come to negotiate." He said, his voice gravelly.

The man Robb presumed was Mance Rayder turned to the red-head. "You were captured?"

"He knocked me out rather than kill me." Ygritte nodded her head at Robb. Mance turned towards Robb, and noticed the banner flying behind him.

"Lord Stark, I presume."

Robb nodded. "The King Beyond the Wall." He responded.

"I didn't know you were this far North." Mance admitted.

"It's a new development." Robb told him, returning the honesty. "We've come to talk."

Mance looked back to Ygritte, who nodded. Mance turned to Robb again. "Your men stay outside." Robb looked behind him and nodded briefly. His men eased up a little, and Mance moved aside. "After you, Jon Snow." Robb followed Ygritte into the tent, and was shown towards a seat at the table. Sitting down to Jon's left, he waited, and Mance spoke again. "It seems my trusting nature got the better of me. It's happened before. I was hoping your loyalty was real when you pledged yourself to us, Jon Snow, truly I was."

Jon shifted slightly. "The Halfhand ordered me to join your army and bring back whatever information I could to Castle Black." He began, telling again the story he had told Robb before the battle. "He made me kill him so you'd trust me. I was loyal, to him and to my Night's Watch vows."

"All your vows?" Mance asked knowingly, nodding his head to an angry Ygritte. "She wasn't enough to turn ya, eh? Were you enough to turn her?"

"He'd never turn me." She spat. "He's a traitor."

Jon looked hurt, and Robb spoke for him. "She put three arrows in him, and tried to kill me once I offered her clemency. She fights for your cause still."

Mance then turned to Robb. "It's a dangerous move, bringing your prisoner here."

Robb agreed. "But then it would be even more dangerous coming alone when we do not mean you harm."

"Did you mean my men harm when they attacked Castle Black?" Mance asked. "Or did ya slaughter them."

"We defended ourselves." Jon exclaimed.

Mance nodded. "Tormund? Orell?"

"Dead." Ygritte spat. "One by Snow's hand, Tormund by this one." She pointed to Robb. Robb guessed she meant the bearded fighter that had caused him some trouble.

Mance gathered himself for a moment. "Tormund was a good man."

"He was." Jon nodded.

"He fought bravely." Robb said, trying to appease the Wildlings.

"And died all the same." Mance told them. "We'll drink to him." One of the Wildlings placed cups in front of Mance, Jon and Robb, before giving another to Ygritte and filling them all up. Robb picked up his cup suspiciously, and Jon was equally as tentative. Mance shook his head. "Of all the ways I'd kill you both, poison would be the last." Jon picked up his cup then, and Mance said. "Tormund Giantsbane."

"Tormund." Jon and Ygritte both replied. Robb, not knowing him, just held his glass out and took a sip.

Jon spluttered, and Robb coughed slightly, not expecting the fiery taste of whatever drink it was. Collecting himself, he placed the cup down again.

"That's not wine." Jon gasped.

"We don't have your southern piss up here, Jon Snow." Ygritte rolled her eyes.

"What is it?" Robb asked.

"A proper Northern drink." Mance replied in disdain. "So, let's get to it. What do you want."

Robb sat straighter. "To understand. Jon tells me all you want is to go South of the Wall. South of the Wall is my country. Explain to me why I shouldn't just bring an entire army up here and wipe you all out."

Mance smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Jon Snow here can tell you that better than I can." He admitted. "He's seen them. He's seen what they can do."

Robb turned to Jon, who nodded. "We camped a few days North of here, at the hut of one of the Free Folk."

"He's not one of us." Ygritte spat."

"No." Jon nodded. "He marries his daughters, all of them." Robb felt a bit ill. "The girl, Gilly. She was one of his wives. Anyway, one of the others birthed a son. I saw him take the baby out to the woods and leave it there, and I saw a creature with bright blue eyes take the baby away. I saw a White Walker."

Robb felt chilled, and the faces in the tent all showed nothing but dread. "The White Walkers, they're myths. Legends." He claimed.

"They're real, boy." Mance shook his head. Robb felt himself grow slightly angry at being called boy, but calmed himself. "They come from even further North than we can possibly go. They take Craster's children as offerings, and they slaughter armies and reanimate them, adding to their own ranks."

"Reanimate the dead?" Robb chuckled.

"Over 200 men died at the Fist of the First Men." Jon replied, slightly angry. "200 of my brothers. When I got there, the men were all gone. No trace of them. When I was a steward under Jeor Mormont, two men died. They rose again and tried to kill him. I saw that."

Robb's eyes grew wider as Jon's words sunk in, and Mance continued. "You see, that's our fate if we don't go further South. That Wall is the only thing that can stop them."

Jon continued, looking towards Mance. "We want a truce, with you. We stop fighting, while an envoy of yours, mine and Lord Stark's travels down to the King. He is the only one with the power to call upon the men we need."

Mance stood, and paced his tent. "You realise that this looks like a trap." He said. "Make us stop fighting while the Army of the North comes and slaughters us all."

"We don't have a full army, we have 5,000 men." Robb shook his head, being honest. The words of Jon had chilled him to his core, and he almost believed them. "I wouldn't be here if I wanted to trick you. I give you my word."

"Your word!" Mance cried. "I don't know you, I know him." He pointed at Jon. "I know him for a liar."

"They want to help, Mance." Ygritte sighed. "Believe me, not them."

Mance paced some more before he came to a conclusion. "I want proof. I want your Lord Commander to come down to my face and ask for the same. Without that, I can't just go on your word alone. Bring me the Lord Commander to ask for this truce, and I'll agree and we can talk about going to talk to your King."

"We have none currently. It may take time." Jon told him.

Robb had an idea. "We'll give you Ygritte back for two weeks truce to give those at Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower a chance to get to Castle Black. If you've not heard from us in one week, then consider these talks finished and we shall be at war once more."

Mance Rayder nodded. "I can agree to that. You have one week."

Nodding, Robb and Jon both stood, the Stark Lord nodding at Mance before leaving the tent. Jon hung back for a moment to steal a glance at Ygritte, before following him.

"Why did you suggest that?" Jon asked once they were clear of the camp.

Robb replied. "I'm trusting you and believing you. That was my way of offering him something to get him to trust me slightly. She was of no use to us in the hands of Thorne, she's safer with Mance and this way he may stick to his word."

* * *

As Durran rode through the River Gate behind the wheeled cage marked by a torn Targaryen banner that housed Viserys Targaryen inside, he was proud to see the people of the city greeting him in their thousands. Either side of the street were the locals cheering him, booing Viserys and pelting rotten fruit through the bars. They made their way down The Hook, and soon found themselves rising Aegon's Hill and inside the Red Keep. He dismounted as Stannis rode next to him, the Hand of the King having ridden down a number of the Golden Company generals and being instrumental in their capture. Only a handful of the enemy had made it through to Dorne, which was again being besieged by land at the Marcher Castles.

"See that the prisoners are thrown into the Black Cells." Durran called to the steward, who had come to greet them. The man nodded, and Durran felt he could finally relax slightly. "Lord Stannis, do you mind seeing to the Council? I need to see the Queen and Princess."

Stannis nodded. "Go, I'll take Stefan with me."

"Take Lord Dayne and Ser Daven too." Durran said, and Stannis bowed, before Durran dismissed his Kingsguard to get some proper rest, and he waited for his brother to catch up to him before the pair made their way up to his rooms, meeting Ser Perwyn on the way.

He opened the door slightly, and was pleased that everybody was inside. Cersei had tears in her eyes as she rushed towards Tommen, gripping him in a tight hug and spinning him around. Dany ran over to Durran, and he picked her up easily in his arms and kissed her fiercely. Durran noticed Jaime smiling too in the corner.

"You're back. You're back." Cersei kept saying over and over, ignoring the squirming Tommen's complaints.

Durran set Dany down, and let Cersei crush him in a hug too. "I'm ok Mother, barely a scratch on me." He chuckled.

"I was so worried, about both of you." She said, gripping Tommen again.

"Durran was amazing." Tommen said. "He got all the squires to like me."

Durran smiled. "You did that yourself, Lord Lannister." He noticed Elaenor then, amazed at his daughter squealing with delight as she flapped her arms around. He made his way over to her, and his heart melted as she held her arms out to be carried. He obliged happily, and held his daughter up. "Haven't you grown my precious Princess." He cooed.

"She's trying to sit up on her own now." Dany smiled, walking over to them and placing an arm on his back.

"I've missed so much." He sighed, before kissing Elaenor firmly on the cheek and laughing at her delighted squeals.

"We'll leave you to it for tonight." Cersei said. Durran looked around and noticed the sky was turning a faint orange.

"We shall all meet for breakfast tomorrow. Here." Durran said. "Let Myrcella know."

Cersei nodded, walking over and kissing Durran on the cheek, having to tiptoe now. "I'm so glad your safe." She smiled. "Come Tommen! Tell me all about it."

She began to leave, and Jaime followed her at Durran's behest, shaking his hand before closing the door behind him. Durran sat on the bed, letting Elaenor bounce on his knee.

"Where is he?" Dany asked, sitting next to him.

Durran sighed. "In the Black Cells for now. I promise, you can see him soon."

Dany nodded. "I don't know how I should feel." She admitted.

Durran looked at her sadly. "I have to execute him, you know that right? He refused the offer and thousands died because of that choice. I have to be strong."

"I know." Dany nodded. "I just… I've never met him, and he is family."

Durran kissed her on her head and held her close. "Give me tomorrow to sort out the court and to bestow everything out. Then I'll let you see him."

Dany smiled weakly, before smiling. "You have a lot to catch up on. Robb Stark has been busy."

"He has?" Durran raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. "Tomorrow. Right now, I want to catch up with my wife and daughter."

Dany nodded, grinning as she kissed him again.

* * *

The next day, after a joyful breakfast where Durran managed to catch up with his entire family, and a tough Small Council meeting, where Durran had had to apologise severely to Mace Tyrell and set out the final plans to pacify Dorne with his Small Council, sending messengers off to the armies now approaching the Marches and to Davos Seaworth, Dany had dragged Durran to the castle armoury. She stopped as she reached a sword rack, which only had the one sword on it, covered in a Baratheon banner.

"What is this?" Durran asked.

"A present." Dany said. "You left Lady Forlorn here, and it was such a boring sword with a silly name, I asked Tobho Mott to do something for me while you were away." Durran looked at her amusedly, before gently tugging the black stag on yellow off of the weapon. On the rack was a beautiful black leather scabbard, with thin golden stags dancing along the material. The hilt had been changed too, with a black stag's head with tiny yellow gems for eyes being the pommel, and the cross guard being beautifully designed antlers. "The gems are yellow sapphires, Varys had them sent from Pentos, they're extremely rare." She told him.

"It's magnificent." Durran said in awe. He picked the weapon up by the scabbard, before unsheathing the blade. Admiring the Valyrian Steel and how light it felt in his hand, he turned to Dany. "This… this is incredible. I love you, my Queen."

Dany smiled sweetly back. "And I love you too. I figured that although it's not a greatsword, a King should have a Valyrian Steel blade."

Durran nodded, turning to Ser Arys, who was guarding them at the moment. "What do you think Arys?"

The Kingsguard nodded. "A fine blade Your Grace. A true Baratheon sword."

Dany nodded. "I haven't named it, I thought I'd leave that to you."

Durran kissed her on the cheek, before staring at the hilt again. "A Baratheon blade should have a Baratheon name, and nothing says Baratheon like the fury of the Stormlands. This blade is Fury." He sheathed it in the scabbard and handed it to Ser Arys, before undoing his sword belt. Dany looked at him, amusedly outraged.

"Last night was fun and I missed you, but I'm not fucking you in an armoury in front of Ser Arys!" She cried.

Durran burst into laughter. "As fun as that would be, my intentions are pure." He insisted. He took the sword belt off and handed the blade to Dany. "By right, this sword belongs to you."

Dany looked confused. "It does?"

"It does." Durran confirmed. "It was once the blade of Aegon the Conqueror, passed down generation to generation until Aegon the Fourth of his name bestowed it to the wrong son."

Dany's eyes widened. "Blackfyre…"

Durran nodded. "It's a bit big for you I guess, but it is yours by rights, and I figured it would be a good gift to give the future Prince of Dragonstone, when we get around to making him."

Dany agreed, her eyes growing damp. "This… I can't express how much this means, thank you." She whispered. Durran just bent down to capture her lips with his own.

They broke apart quickly, and Durran said. "Come, let us go and get court over with."

* * *

The throne room was packed. Lords and Ladies and Knights filled it to the brim, and Durran looked down at them all from the Iron Throne. He had just finished knighting around 70 people for their valour on the battlefield, including Martyn, Willem and Tyrek Lannister, and finally his cousin Stefan Baratheon. It was now time for the handing out of titles, as Mace Tyrell was called forwards. The fat flower knelt before the Throne, and Durran bid him to rise.

"Lord Tyrell. Brightwater keep was briefly owned by your nephew, Lord Garlan Tyrell, who so tragically fell in the Battle of Summerhall. As his widow, the Lady Leonette Fossoway, is currently pregnant with his babe, I hereby name the child as the new Lord or Lady of Brightwater Keep. Until such a time as the child reaches maturity, I grant regency to your eldest nephew and heir, Willas Tyrell." Durran proclaimed. "In the event of miscarriage, the castle shall fall to the head of House Tyrell."

"Thank you, you honour us, Your Grace." Mace spoke loudly, bowing his head towards the Throne before walking back to his spot.

"Lord Stannis Baratheon." Durran called, and Stannis made the short walk from the front of the procession to the steps of the Iron Throne, kneeling briefly. "I hereby grant your second son, Lord Davos Baratheon, Wendwater Castle and all its land. You may pick your own regent until he reaches maturity."

"I thank you, Your Grace." Stannis replied, before taking his place back next to Stefan.

"Ser Rolland Storm!" Durran called. The pox scarred knight walked through the crowd and knelt before the throne. "Ser Rolland. Your brother Lord Bryce Caron was the last legitimate son of your late father, and died without issue. As a result, I hereby grant you legitimisation, naming you Ser Rolland Caron, and bestow the title of Lord of Nightsong upon you."

The new Lord nodded his thanks, bowing once more before shrinking off to escape the attention, and it was time for Durran to start his more radical announcements.

"Ser Anguy." Durran called. The newly anointed knight and a hero of the war stepped forwards from the back of the room, and knelt before the Throne. Durran stood this time. "Your skills were truly important in the past conflict. From the battle of Blackhaven where you dented the manpower and struck at a number of their war beasts, to the Battle of Summerhall where you led men and took down more beasts, before managing to save the life of Ser Barristan Selmy. I hereby name you Hero of the Realm." Durran began applauding, and the entire room erupted into applause for a brief moment before Durran held his arm up and the noise died down. "As most of you in this room are aware, the traitor Viserys Targaryen brutally murdered House Selmy, leaving Ser Barristan its only member. As a gesture of gratitude and with Ser Barristan's blessing, I hereby raise you to landed knighthood, and grant you the seat of Harvest Hall."

Murmurs flew throughout the room, as the realisation that Durran had just raised a commoner to landed knight in a matter of moments gripped them all. The man in question was in shock. "Tha… thank you, Your Grace." He stammered.

"You have proven that the circumstance of one's birth does not make a hero, and you deserve your rewards for your service." Durran responded, dismissing him, before calling for silence once again. "House Martell has proven that they cannot be trusted with this latest treachery. Prince Doran sided against my Father in the war to justly overthrow the Mad King, he ignored my Father's calls for unity of the realm and preferred to bide his time in the deserts waiting for a moment to strike at House Baratheon. As a result of his treachery, I have to ensure that the consequences are severe. By my right as the Protector of the Realm, I hereby strip House Martell of the Paramountcy of Dorne!" Durran had to begin shouting to be overheard by the shocked room. "I denounce House Martell and demand they turn themselves in for their treachery! They shall suffer the consequences of the war they helped bring!"

The reaction was loud, as the room was split. Durran let them have their moment before raising an arm and letting the noise die out. "As a result, Dorne is in need of new leadership. Lord Edric Dayne." The silver-haired teenager stepped forwards, kneeling before the Throne. "Your House stood firm in House Martell's betrayal and suffered deeply for it. Your loyalty has been of great importance to me, and I pronounce House Dayne of Starfall to hereby be Lord Paramount of Dorne, from this day until the end of days. To show your new title, a bride worthy of the Lord Paramount shall be needed, and with your agreement, I shall grant you the hand of my sister, Princess Myrcella Baratheon."

Whispers ran through the room, as Edric Dayne looked up at the Throne. "I can think of no higher honours Your Grace. I promise you Dorne shall once again become a staunch and strong supporter of the Crown. I should gladly wed the Princess Myrcella, so long as she agrees herself. I would not wish to give the Princess an unhappy union." He called.

This had been practised beforehand, and Durran looked up to the gallery where Myrcella stood in between Cersei and Daenerys looking beautiful in a slender golden dress. She looked over at Durran, who nodded briefly, before turning to look at Edric. "Your valour and honour are known to me, Lord Dayne. I would gladly wed a man such as yourself."

Applause rang through the room, though Durran noted a few unhappy glances throughout, as was to be expected when such radical change occurred. Edric returned to his space, and Durran held up his hand once more. Nodding to Jaime, the Kingslayer walked down the centre of the room and out of the doors quickly, and Durran spoke again.

"The last three years have been devastating to the Seven Kingdoms. War has barely ceased during that time, and thousands upon thousands of lives have been lost. With the end of the Targaryen Uprising, we can finally bring about a period of lengthy peace throughout the lands. The end of the war though, will not come with the symbol of the traitorous rebellion left alive." Durran told them all. "My Father was known for his lenience and his ability to turn enemies into friends, and while that was a tactic that served well in the last war, this war sees me finding a need for a new approach, the approach of the other House I belong to. House Martell shall feel my full Lannister wrath, as House Florent and House Rowan already have." With that the doors opened again, and a dirty, ragged Viserys Targaryen was dragged in chains by a number of guards, who brought him before the throne before Jaime kicked out at his legs, forcing the Targaryen to kneel. Durran saw him look up at Dany, and clenched his teeth, before standing up and looking down at the Targaryen male. "Viserys Targaryen. I once offered you generous terms to end your uprising. I offered you the ancestral seat of Dragonstone and you refused my offer. You've destroyed Houses that had been around for thousands of years, been responsible for the deaths of thousands. As a result, I have no choice but for one course of action. I, Durran of the House Baratheon. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby sentence you to die by beheading on the final day of the 303rd year since Aegon's Landing."

The crowd erupted in cheers as the sentence was passed, and Viserys just glared into Durran's eyes. The Baratheon nodded to Jaime to take the Targaryen away, as he sat on the Iron Throne and let the atmosphere die out naturally.


	28. The Golden Dragon

The day after the sentencing, Daenerys was escorted by her sworn sword Ser Perwyn of the Kingsguard down towards the Black Cells. In her hands she held a loaf of bread and some wine, and she was nervous. The gaoler escorted her to Viserys' cell, and unlocked the door. Ser Perwyn took the torch, as the fire from the torch filled the room. She saw her brother flinch at the light, holding his arm above his eyes as he got used to it.

"So, finally my sweet sister comes to see me." He said croakily.

She held out the wine and bread. "I brought you some food." She said, placing it on the ground by his feet. She stepped backwards, and watched as he gingerly took the goblet. Not taking a sip, she sighed. "Do you really think he'd poison you after promising the entire city a spectacle?"

"His Father had babies murdered, I wouldn't put it past him." Viserys snarled. Nonetheless he took a sip, quenching his thirst before taking a bite from the bread.

"King Robert was blinded by rage, and he did evil things with that rage." Dany replied calmly. "But Durran isn't like that."

"Isn't he?" Viserys grinned. "His treatment of Plankytown won't be the last I reckon. No, he'll need to make an example out of Dorne. Out of poor, crippled Prince Doran."

"All Kings have to be cruel." Dany shook her head. "It's the balance that needs to be right."

"His family locked you up!" Viserys screamed, and Dany recoiled at the rage in his violet eyes. "I thought you'd died for 12 years! They kept you locked away in a cage, hidden in the belly of the castle! How can you defend those monsters!"

Ser Perwyn had unsheathed his sword an inch, but Dany held her hand out to stop him. "Robert locked me away, yes. But Robert is dead. Stannis saved my life and always made sure I was comfortable. Varys taught me my lessons and my languages, and Durran was my friend. Do I wish Mother had survived? Yes. But for that to happen we would have had to go into exile, and while the start was rough, I wouldn't change my life, Viserys."

"Our Father would spit at the sight of you." Viserys growled.

"Our Father was an evil man." Dany replied strongly. "And I can see that you are no better. You have the same madness about you, that glint in your eye that tells me you're unstable."

Viserys began cackling with laughter. "You and I are not that different then. Only a madwoman would walk into fire, only a madwoman would rely on the council of a Priestess of R'hllor."

Dany shook her head. "Don't pretend like you know me."

"And don't pretend like you know them." Viserys growled. "As my own blood, I offer you this advice before I die. Banish her. Those people only serve their own purpose, they care about nobody but themselves. Sooner or later, she will prove that to you."

Dany scowled at Viserys. "You told my husband that you would rape me underneath his head. You told him that I would choose you. Hear me now, Viserys. I would never choose you. You're a vile, bitter madman and you will die soon knowing that the future of House Targaryen will be known by the name of Baratheon. You've failed. All your efforts have been wasted."

With that, she turned around and went to leave the cell, but not before her brother's smug voice called out to her. "Don't be so sure."

* * *

While Daenerys was with her brother, Durran had been forced to sit in his Mother's chambers as the rest of his family made a huge fuss over him. It was his 17th name day, and he was being showered with gifts.

Jaime had given him a slender black sword belt to fit his new Valyrian Steel sword in, while Stannis had shown him the plans that were underway for a brand-new warship which Durran was happy about, the Sceptre still hadn't been truly replaced. From Tommen, or Cersei Durran truly predicted, came a lion engraved goblet made of gold and lined with rubies. 'Extravagant' was the word Durran had used, but he appreciated it all the same. Myrcella and Shireen had clubbed together and had some fine clothes made for him, which they had forced him to put on for the day. His favourite present, however, came from his Mother.

She had waited until last, and had Ser Balon bring it in. Everyone gasped, as they recognised the item. Durran stood slowly, not believing it.

"Is that…" Durran asked.

"Robert's own Warhammer?" Stannis was surprised. "I thought that was lost."

Cersei took a sip of wine. "It was found buried in the armoury under all manner of insignificant weapons. My cousin Tyrek found it and had it brought to me, so I had it touched up a bit, to make it fit for a King."

"Mother… I…" Durran was lost for words. Cersei stood up and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek.

"No words need saying. This year has made me realise what a fool I was for years to you, to all three of you." She looked towards Myrcella and Tommen. "Joffrey… I can see now how I treated him over you, and I apologise."

Durran could see Stannis pursing his teeth, but a hand on the arm from Stefan kept the elder Baratheon quiet. Myrcella smiled at her Mother and said. "You are forgiven Mother."

"Yes." Durran said. "All that, it's in the past. With the end of this war I want us all to look to the future, starting with Myrcella's wedding."

The girl in question groaned, but the jovial reactions from the others alleviated that. "Have you spoken to Lord Dayne yet?" Jaime asked.

Myrcella nodded. "We had a walk around the gardens after the announcement. Escorted by Ser Arys of course!" She said at her Mother's glare. Durran chuckled.

"He's a fine man, fought well in the battle and without him our losses would have been even greater at Blackhaven. You couldn't do much better." The King said.

"Even if he isn't Robb Stark." Tommen joked, earning a soft slap on the arm from his sister.

"Tommen!" Myrcella cried, as laughter rang around the room.

Durran grinned. "Even if he isn't Stark. But this union is more vital than that, Myrcella you are going to be the jewel of Dorne, your beauty unrivalled and your brain unmatched. They will love you as one of their own in time, I promise."

Silence fell slowly around the table, until Jaime held his goblet out. "To Myrcella."

"Myrcella." They all called out.

They finished the feast and Stannis, Stefan and Shireen left to prepare the two youngest for their trips to Storm's End and Riverrun respectively, and Durran asked his Mother to accompany him. With a guard, they made their way down to the Sept of Baelor, with Durran stopping to talk to the people every now and then, showing off his daughter and giving leftovers where he could.

When they reached the huge building, they both found their way to Joffrey's crypt once more laying a reef of flowers at its base. "You choose to see him more now than you wanted to when he was alive." Cersei noted.

"He's less cruel dead." Durran said bluntly. He noticed Cersei recoil, and added. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead."

"No, he was cruel." Cersei sighed. "But he was still my son. You have a child now, you understand."

Durran nodded, noting the 5-month-old in his arms. "Elle." He said softly, grabbing her attention. "This is your Uncle, Joffrey." He showed her the statue, and Elaenor's eyes grew wide, before trying to grab at the statue. "He wasn't a nice man, but he was family, and we should always look after family." He turned to see Cersei tearing up, and he reached a free hand out to hold his Mother's hand. "No matter their crimes, we should always help and love them."

"War has made you wise." She smiled. "Trust no-one but our own."

"No Mother." Durran went to correct. "Trust those that show they deserve your trust." He turned back to the statue of Joffrey, looking more regal than he ever did alive. "I'm going to have to take a page out of Grandfather's book for Dorne. I have to fully destroy House Martell, don't I?"

Cersei nodded. "You should have destroyed House Stark for their betrayal. To let two Houses off lightly would show your enemies that you are forgiving. Robert was forgiving, and House Greyjoy attempted a rebellion for that. A family like the Martell's, that would send a message that you are to be feared."

"It's one extreme to the next." Durran chuckled.

"It's the bed you made when you let off Stark with a marriage and a slap on the wrist." Cersei told him. "You cannot make that mistake again."

Durran shook his head, cradling Elaenor once more. They said their goodbyes to Joffrey, and walked out of the Sept. Durran remembered that this is where Ned Stark had died, and stopped. Cersei turned around to question him.

"The crowd, when it happened here." He said, making her aware of his meaning. "They loved it, yes?"

Cersei looked ashamed. "Yes, as soon as the crimes were known they were out for blood."

"They're so… so fickle." Durran said, disgusted. "But that's what we need when Viserys is executed, we need them loud, we need them cheering at his demise. I want you to send out word that the first 1000 people at the Dragonpit on the day of the Execution will get to watch."

"Me?" Cersei asked.

"Yes." Durran nodded. "If you can manage to turn an entire city against the honourable Ned Stark, you can build up a city's anticipation for this."

* * *

It's safe to say that the agreement Robb and Jon had made with the King Beyond the Wall did not go down well with the majority of the commanders of Castle Black. The pair immediately sought out Maester Aemon, who was already with Thorne, Janos Slynt, and another man that Robb didn't know. The Maester remained quiet, but Janos Slynt was the most vocal.

"There's no surprise that the sons of a traitor would become traitors themselves!" He exclaimed. "The King Beyond the Wall is our enemy and you would treat with him without our knowledge?"

"Yes." Robb said simply. "Because the main thing I've discovered since being at Castle Black is that most of you are fools. You would all rather die at the hands of 100,000 than to make that number an ally."

"We have been enemies with the Wildlings for thousands of years, Lord Stark." Thorne said accusingly. "Your own family have helped kill enough of them throughout those years."

Robb nodded. "Aye, we have when the Watch called for aid, just as we did here. I can also assure you that the intentions of Mance Rayder was significantly different to those of Gendel and Gorne, of Bael the Bard or of Raymun Redbeard. Mance Rayder is looking to save 100,000 lives, we can't ignore this."

"And you believe a deserter?" Slynt mocked. "Typical of a traitor's son."

"I believe him over the complaints of a craven." Robb argued.

"Lies! How dare you call me craven! I was the Commander of the City Watch!" Slynt cried.

"And now you're here." Jon countered. "You mustn't have been very good at your job."

"Jon." Robb warned, before turning back to Slynt. "The King told me about you, he told me that you were one of those that betrayed my Father, and caused his death. If anyone is a traitor here, Slynt."

Janos Slynt rose to his feet angrily. "I will not sit here and listen to this!"

"Then stand and listen to it, it will make no difference." Aemon said calmly. "We are a group of familial enemies here, but other than Lord Stark we are men of the Night's Watch and now have no families. We are the shield that guards the realms of men."

"And letting 100,000 savages that would kill us all is protecting the realm?" The other man asked.

"Not letting them through when all they want to do is hide behind the Wall is worse." Jon argued.

Thorne shook his head. "They'll betray us as soon as we open the gates. Has your Wildling whore corrupted you so much Bastard that you would let your brothers die?"

Robb lay his hand on Jon's arm, calming him down. "I saw the aftermath of the Fist, Sam saw the army and later killed a Walker. They are real."

"You'd trust Tarly? The boy is a coward." Thorne scoffed.

"He fought bravely on the ground by my side in the face of Wildling attackers." Robb countered. "My men vouch for his courage."

Aemon added. "And he is no liar. If Samwell Tarly was scared enough to bring a Wildling mother and babe to Castle Black knowing full well the consequences, he must have seen something worth the risks."

"I've seen them too." Jon reminded them. "The White Walkers are back. If we don't want to all die at their hands, we must aid the Free Folk."

"Even so, Lord Snow." Thorne said. "We cannot order such without the command of a Lord Commander."

Robb looked at Jon, who looked gutted. "Is this true?"

Maester Aemon nodded. "A declaration of this magnitude… yes. A Lord Commander is needed."

Robb stood at that moment. "The Night's Watch is outside of my jurisdiction, but the people of the North will be the first affected by whatever you decide. Let them through peacefully and we can coexist and band together when this threat comes. Refuse, and they will slaughter you all with the sheer numbers. I have given you seven days, as Warden of the North I urge you to come to a decision before that time, or more men will die."

"I shall send the ravens tonight, Lord Stark." Aemon said. "It is high time we anointed the 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

* * *

As the King and Queen were catching their breath after another 'birthday gift' for Durran on the night of his name day, Daenerys snuggled into his warm body, sighing with content.

"Wow…" Durran grinned.

"I've missed it too." She sighed happily. "You're not allowed to go to war without me again."

Durran laughed aloud, the alcohol hitting him. "As my Queen commands. There shouldn't be another war anyway, not if Stark has dealt with the threat in the North."

"I can always go and check." Dany shrugged. "I've not flown Rhaellar for a while and she could use a stretch of her wings."

"It would take too long." Durran shook his head. "No, unless Robb calls for us it's his job to deal with the problem and the letter you showed me made it seem like it had been dealt with."

Dany nodded, before looking over at the Warhammer in the corner of the room. "So, you said that's King Robert's Warhammer?" She asked nervously.

"Yes." Durran nodded, noting her odd expression, before realisation hit him. "Oh fuck. I'm so sorry, I didn't realise…"

"No, it's ok." Dany waved off. "I know weapons are to kill, I mean Blackfyre alone has killed hundreds, if not thousands of people. I just find it strange… that hammer killed my brother."

Durran immediately rose and picked the object up after putting a golden robe on. Opening the door slightly he found his Uncle. "Ser Jaime, can you take this to the armoury?" He asked.

"Your door…" Jaime began.

"I'll be fine for twenty minutes." Durran waved off. "I have Fury with me, go."

Jaime nodded and took the weapon, leaving Durran to shut and lock the doors. Turning back to Dany he saw her sitting up and brushing her extremely long silver hair. "Thank you." She whispered.

"Here, let me." Durran said, sitting behind her and taking the brush from her hands. He weaved it through her hair softly.

"Mmm." She moaned slightly, causing Durran to grin. "So, tell me. What are you calling your ship?"

Durran thought for a moment. "Princess Elaenor's Elegance." He answered. "So that even when she marries Robb's heir, a reminder of her station will always be there."

He could sense Dany smiling, and leant down to kiss her head gently before resuming the brushing. They were silent for a brief moment, before Dany said. "I spoke with Viserys today."

Durran stopped in his tracks. "Ser Perwyn told me." He answered.

"He's mad." She sighed. "I had hoped to find him better, but the Black Cells have made him worse than you told me."

"What did he say?" Durran asked.

Dany turned around to face him, and Durran was trying his best not to ogle her bare body. "He thinks my Father was a saint. He thinks I'm mad for keeping Melisandre around, he… he thinks you're going to be tyrannical."

Shaking his head amused. "The fact he holds King Aerys in esteem tells it all, Dany. I promise you, you aren't your Father, you aren't Viserys. You are kind, you are generous and you are the best Queen I could wish for. Ignore him, he's a bitter man."

Dany nodded. "I know, and I don't believe him, not really."

"Good." Durran nodded, cupping her face gently.

"But, I need to know why he is considered truly evil Durran. I know about the Starks, and that is cruel, but that doesn't seem to be the worst of it? I can see it in people's eyes I am judged by his standards. Ser Jaime refuses to tell me why he truly killed him and I need to know." She exclaimed.

Durran was shocked. "How do you know about the Starks?" He asked.

"Stannis told me." She said bluntly. "I wish you had."

"I thought it best to spare you the truth." Durran admitted. "I wasn't there, and anything that came from my mouth would have just been the bias I grew up with. I'm sorry."

Dany smiled quickly. "I know, I don't blame you I promise. I just… I need to know what my parents were like, I need to be better."

Durran nodded, and had a thought. "Hold on a moment. Put a gown on." He told her.

"Am I not beautiful enough for you?" Dany asked cheekily.

Durran growled. "You're too beautiful, I don't want to share you."

Dany laughed, and put on her robe as Durran opened the door once more to find Jaime just settling in to his post again.

"Your Grace… am I to perform another errand?" The knight asked, annoyed.

"No, Uncle. I… I want you to tell us about the Sack of King's Landing. The honest story." Durran sighed. "I apologise if you don't want to but…"

"The Queen wishes to know about her family." Jaime sighed.

"Yes." Durran nodded.

He could see that Jaime was uncomfortable, but thankfully the knight nodded. "Very well. I've not spoken about it at all though, forgive me if I'm not a great story teller."

Durran clasped his hand on Jaime's armoured shoulder. "Your honesty means more to me than anything."

Jaime nodded, and followed Dany into the room where she had poured out three glasses. Jaime took one of wine and downed it all, before pouring himself another. Turning to the couple, he sighed. "I was young when I was appointed to the Kingsguard, and I only did it to be rid of Lysa Tully and to be closer to your Mother." He nodded to Durran, sensing there was no need for half-truths. "King Aerys was cruel, even before the Starks he wasn't there in his mind, but once he had murdered Lord Stark and Brandon Stark, it grew worse. Every burning he would visit the Queen, and even though I wanted to help her and guard her too, I was told that we couldn't from him."

"If I ever look like I'm a danger to Dany, stop me." Durran said, his face growing white. "That's an order."

"Your Grace." Jaime nodded. "Anyway, once Connington lost the Battle of the Bells his new Hand, Lord Qarlton Chelsted, he tried to convince the King to surrender. The King ordered him burnt alive and visited your Mother again. I can still hear her screams."

Dany was in silent tears, but Jaime kept going. "That was when you were conceived though, and no matter his cruelty, the thought of you always brought Queen Rhaella happiness." Jaime insisted. "I promise you, Your Grace. Your Mother would be undeniably proud of who you have become."

"She would?" Dany asked vulnerably.

"Of course." Durran whispered, holding her close.

Jaime continued. "I was kept behind to stop my Father from joining Robert of course, but when Rhaegar died and Ned Stark marched on the city Lord Tywin got there first, and Pycelle convinced Aerys to open the gates for him, and when the sacking started, I was ordered to bring Aerys my Father's head."

Durran didn't know most of this, and he listened on in shock. "I'd heard of a failsafe while with the King, and I heard that the master pyromancer Rossart was with Aerys then. Knowing something awful was due to happen, I went to stop them. I killed the pyromancer, and found Aerys alone on the Throne whispering 'burn them all' repeatedly. When he noticed me, he asked if the blood was my Father's and I told him the truth."

"Burn them all?" Dany asked.

"I never found out what he meant." Jaime admitted. "He ran then, and I stopped him by slashing his throat. I had to, or whatever he meant would have been done by some other gullible fool."

He grew silent then, and Durran went forwards and hugged him. "If someone would have known…"

"Ned Stark judged me guilty from the moment he saw Aerys body." Jaime spat. "There was no point, I was already 'Kingslayer' by then."

Dany wiped her eyes, and looked towards Jaime with a new-found respect. "He was going to destroy the city, just to win?" She asked.

"Yes, Your Grace." Jaime bowed his head.

Dany took her time, but responded. "Then you saved a million lives that day, Ser. By killing the King, you saved everybody out there."

Jaime was surprised, but nodded. "I suppose so, I was just putting my duty as a knight before my duty to him."

"And I forgive you." Dany said, causing Durran to reel back in surprise. "On behalf of House Targaryen, I forgive you."

Jaime had a tear in his eye, and fell to a knee. "Your Grace…"

"No words, Ser." Dany smiled. "It must have been hard telling me that, but I thank you for it."

Durran was thinking about Aerys' last words. "Burn them all… how? How could he do that before he was cornered by Lannisters?"

Jaime had no idea, but Dany's eyes widened. "Where did Tyrion get the wildfire from?"

"They were hidden in underground tunnels kept safe by the pyromancers." Durran answered, not understanding."

"Get Varys." Dany ordered Jaime.

"Why?" Durran asked.

"When he was teaching me lessons, he explained that the castle has secret tunnels within that have been forgotten about, that would allow you to get anywhere unnoticed." Dany began. "What if the city has some as well?"

Durran's eyes lit up with recognition. "And if King Aerys knew about them…"

"He could have lined the tunnels with Wildfire." Dany finished, causing the hairs on Durran's arms to stand upright in fear. Nodding to Jaime, Durran repeated his wife's order.

"Get Varys, we'll need him."

* * *

Cersei had spread the word well, and outside the Dragonpit people were gathered in their thousands. A podium had been raised just behind the execution block, and Durran was sat with Dany to his left sat underneath the Baratheon and Targaryen banners, showing a sign of unity. Viserys' personal banner was raised slightly by the execution block, a golden dragon on black instead of the red one.

A screech came from the sky, as Rhaellar flew above alone.

"I feel bad, locking the other two up." Dany sighed.

Durran nodded. "I understand, but we cannot risk Viserys somehow managing to bond with one and escaping."

"As soon as this is over with, then they can be freed." Stannis said to Durran's right, quieter than usual after Stefan had needed to travel back to the Stormlands a couple of days earlier.

Dany nodded, but Durran could still see that she was uncomfortable. "You don't need to be here." He whispered to her.

"Yes, I do." She replied bluntly. Durran saw Ser Ilyn Payne, still the King's Justice, walking towards the podium.

"Are we ready?" He asked the mute. Ser Ilyn nodded once. "Fetch him then."

Payne walked off to fetch Viserys, as the noise from the crowd was going as their excitement increased. Durran noticed Ser Perwyn behind Dany's chair whispering in her ear.

"Keep an eye on him personally." Dany whispered, and Ser Perwyn nodded and left.

"Everything alright?" Durran asked.

"Aelyx is a bit restless." Dany said, worry clear in her eyes. Durran was concerned. "He's secure, don't worry." She added.

"Let's just get this over with." Stannis said. "The sooner he is dead the quicker we can stop worrying he's going to escape with a dragon somehow."

Durran nodded, and stood up, raising his arm to hush the crowd, who dutifully fell silent. "People of King's Landing!" He shouted. "Today we put an end to this needless war. Viserys Targaryen thought he could put himself on the Iron Throne and call himself King, but thanks to the brave men of Westeros his plan to resume the tyranny of the Mad King failed! Tomorrow is a new year, and it will bring newfound peace and prosperity to the entirety of Westeros!"

Applause rang around the Dragonpit, until silence fell again and Durran continued. "The Seven were truly with us at Summerhall, and there, at a site of Targaryen history, they made their will known that House Baratheon are the Seven's chosen to sit on the Iron Throne! With the birth of the Princess, House Targaryen and House Baratheon have truly unified, and the only man that disagreed failed in his attempts to see this prosperous partnership broken."

Viserys was brought out from underneath the Dragonpit at that moment, and boos and all manner of curses rang through the Dragonpit. Durran looked down at Dany to see how she was handling the jeering towards her Brother, and the Queen just looked on, her eyes steely and her hands clenched on the arms of the chair. Durran turned back to see Ser Ilyn lead the prisoner to the block, facing Viserys towards Durran. "Viserys of House Targaryen." Durran began. "Your crimes are well known, and your treason has been judged by the Seven. I pray that the Seven care for your soul and in the afterlife, you can repent for your sins. Today though, your treasonous cause dies."

Durran nodded towards Ser Balon Swann who was also by the block, who took a burning torch off of a guard and walked over towards the hanging banner of Viserys, setting the cloth aflame. Durran waited until the cheers from the crowd died down before he spoke again. "I vow to each and every one of you that no pretender shall ever defeat the might of House Baratheon, and they shall meet the same end if they dare to try. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head."

The roars of approval almost deafened Durran, and he watched on, leaning on the bannister as Viserys was forced to his knees and his head placed on the block by a pair of Baratheon guardsmen. Ser Ilyn placed his executioners hood on and unsheathed his greatsword. Setting himself, Ser Ilyn raised the greatsword, before bringing it down sharply. Durran internally cheered at the sound of the sword cleaving through skin and bone, but had to give off an impression of sombreness for the crowd. A faint roar could be heard underneath their feet, and Durran turned around quickly to see that it had alarmed Dany too. The crowd were too busy celebrating to care though, and Durran took a step towards his wife.

"Go and see him, you can calm him down." He whispered. Dany nodded, and made a public showing of kissing Durran on the cheeks before being escorted below to see her dragon. Durran turned back to the crowd in time to see Ser Balon raising the severed head of Viserys Targaryen to show the cheering masses, dripping with blood.

"It's over." Stannis said from behind him.

"Not yet." Durran said. "We still need to bring Dorne to heel."


	29. Blood of the Dragon

Five days after Robb and Jon had spoken with Mance Rayder the few men from Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower were arriving at Castle Black. From the whispers it seemed like Ser Denys Mallister was only one putting his name up to go against Ser Alliser Thorne.

Jon and Robb walked along the top of the Wall looking down the charred remains of the Haunted Forest. They couldn't see Mance's camp, but occasionally a scout could be seen at the edges of the Forest, keeping an eye out.

"What if this is all for nothing." Jon sighed.

"It won't be." Robb tried to convince him. "Ser Alliser is a proud man, but he surely understands the dangers of leaving them North of the Wall."

Jon scoffed. "He'll keep them there just to spite me.

"Is he really that petty?" Robb questioned. Jon just nodded.

"He's hated me since I got here Robb, just because I'm the son of Ned Stark, the man that he feels sent him here." Jon told him.

Robb shook his head. "Tywin Lannister sent him here, he was in charge of sentencing the defenders of the Sack."

"That doesn't matter." Jon told him. "If Ser Alliser is chosen, we'll just have to fight again."

Robb looked out towards the true North, the burnt forests soon giving way to miles of snow and mountains. The view was truly breath-taking, but all he could think about was the fact that somewhere beyond those mountains were monsters who wanted to kill them all. "You definitely aren't jesting with me, they really are out there?"

Jon looked annoyed. "We've been over this…"

"I know." Robb held his hands up defensively. "I just don't want to risk the loyalty of my people if it's a big misunderstanding or something."

Jon was confused. "The loyalty of your people?"

Robb nodded. "If Thorne is chosen, then I'll try and convince him to agree to our deal. If he refuses then I'll leave Castle Black with all my men that don't want to stay and take the black."

"You'd abandon us?" Jon asked, outraged.

"And I would send the fleet that Father ordered to be built at White Harbour to Hardhome." Robb countered. "We have 30 ships, we can carry around 5000 at a time if we are smart about it. I won't abandon them to a fate worse than death Jon, I promise you that."

Jon nodded. "Where will they go?"

Robb shrugged. "They'll have to go in the Gift, there's nobody there and there hasn't been for centuries, the land is fertile enough, they'll be fine there. We can teach them to cultivate the land."

"Those lands belong to the Night's Watch." Jon reminded him.

"And before King Jaehaerys gave it to them, they belonged to the North." Robb reminded him. "Father thought of settling a Lord in there, having them pay their taxes to the Wall and supporting the Wall with food and the like, how different is this to his idea truly? They'll be made aware that they are to cease raiding and raping the lands, but they will be safe behind the Wall like they crave."

Jon thought about it and nodded. "Aye, I can see it. Lord Umber won't like it though, neither will the King."

Robb sighed. "Jon will do as he's commanded, but I'll give him some extra fighting men for his borders if it happens. I can deal with the King, he won't like it no but I can persuade him I'm sure. If what you say is true then these steps are necessary Jon, I don't want to be responsible for 100,000 deaths because we are all too stubborn to admit that somewhere along the way, we forgot that the Wall wasn't built to keep out Wildlings."

* * *

**304 AC**

Weeks went by and finally a sense of normality returned to the Capital. Varys' investigation into the hidden tunnels was going slowly, although extra areas of the Red Keep that hadn't been known to the King since the days of Maegor the Cruel were being brought to Durran's attention.

His daughter was growing fast too. Now at seven months old, Princess Elaenor was the joy of the castle, and Durran often found himself just sat in his rooms watching his daughter. His council occasionally thought he should pay more attention to the matters of state however, but on rare occasions, Durran just didn't care.

It was even rarer that both Durran and Dany got to spend any true quality time with their daughter, but they managed it on the most perfect of mornings, as they both sat on the floor lying against the bed watching Elaenor sitting up and playing with a cloth stag Shireen had sewn for her. Dany was leaning against Durran's shoulder, just watching her daughter happily. Durran had half his attention on a decree to allow the new Lord of Harvest Hall to wed a daughter of Lord Wensington in the Stormlands. His attention was diverted however when Dany bolted upright and started clapping.

"That's it Ellie, come to mama." She cooed, Durran looked up and noticed his daughter lying flat on her belly, but her little arms were trying to push her upwards. He put the papers down and held his arms out for the baby to come towards them. Elaenor looked like all her efforts were going into moving, and she somehow managed to pull her body along a few inches with only her arms. Dany was clapping loudly and Durran couldn't contain his grin. Elaenor did the same action again a couple of times, before finally getting her legs working with her arms, as she came further towards them one mini heave at a time. Finally, she made her way to Dany's arms, who swooped her up and continued to lay kiss after kiss upon the baby's face. "You're so clever." Dany grinned, holding her up.

Durran held his arms out for her, and Dany placed the baby in them. Durran held her up so her grinning face was directly in front of his. "You're growing so fast." He whispered. He placed a kiss on her cheek and chuckled at the squeal. He heard a faint sob from next to him, and laughed slightly as Dany wiped tears away from her eyes.

"Stop it." She said jovially. "I'm just happy."

Durran grinned wider. "There's no need for tears."

"I know, I can't help it." Dany smiled. "She's so perfect."

Durran couldn't help but agree. "She'll be breaking poor boy's hearts before you know it."

"Stop it!" Dany cried. "She's never going to grow up she's going to stay a baby forever, I command it."

Durran barked a laugh. "If only." He replied, before standing up with Elaenor in one arm and moving to the far side of the room, kicking the toy towards Dany. He sat the baby down again. "Ellie, go to your Mother." He encouraged, as Dany called the same shaking the toy. Elaenor was confused for a while, but she saw Dany holding the toy and tried to make her own way over again. It took some time, but she managed it, making Dany cry silently once more.

* * *

Cersei came by Durran's rooms an hour afterwards, and Jaime was outside the doors guarding them. They could hear the laughing and the congratulating loudly from the corridor. "What's going on?" She asked her brother.

"I believe the Princess has crawled." Jaime replied. "They've been at it for an hour."

Cersei's hand went to her mouth in amazement. "Crawling? So early?"

"Is it early?" Jaime asked with a shrug. "I'll announce you." He knocked on the door. "The Queen Mother." He exclaimed.

"You never were one to take an interest when they were babies." Cersei whispered harshly.

"If I had done, we wouldn't be here today." Jaime whispered back, as Durran opened the doors.

"Mother." He said in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you."

Cersei shook her head. "I met Pycelle a moment ago and he was on his way to see you, I thought you wouldn't want to smell his stench so early in the day, here." She handed him a raven scroll.

"Come in, Elle's just learning how to crawl." Durran said proudly. Jaime waved her in and shut the door behind Cersei, as she watched her granddaughter crawl around the floor. Cersei smiled.

"Amazing." She said. "You wouldn't crawl for another month at this time, and then Joffrey had to copy his brother immediately after."

Durran laughed as he opened the Baratheon seal questioningly, and once he had read the message he grinned wildly.

"News?" Dany asked, picking up her daughter.

Durran nodded. "From Stefan, he's arrived at Storm's End."

* * *

Stefan was gladdened when he rode through the outer gates of Storm's End. The drum tower stood out for miles before they got to the castle and he was eager to be back at home. He was happy to see a procession waiting for him as he dismounted, and walked over to see his Wife, Mother and Brother.

"Lady Margaery." Stefan said formally. "I am glad to see you."

"As I am you, Lord Husband." She smiled. He kissed her on the cheek, noticing her bulging belly.

"Have I missed something?" He raised an eyebrow.

Margaery placed a hand on her belly. "It seems the night you spent at Storm's End has granted us a child, My Lord."

Stefan was surprised, he didn't know what to say. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies." A woman's voice said to Margaery's left. Stefan turned and grinned to see his Lady Joy Baratheon.

"Mother." He grinned.

"Stefan." She acknowledged, bringing him into her arms. "I have missed you."

"As I have you." He replied. He stood back and noticed his younger brother, the twelve-year-old standing taller that Stefan remembered.

"Lord Davos of Wendwater." He grinned, ruffling his hair.

"Stop!" Davos Baratheon complained.

"Come, let us inside. You can tell us all about your adventures." Joy rolled her eyes, although she kept looking towards his iron arm.

A small feast had been prepared for them, as was Stannis' usual style, but the four sat together at the High Table and listened to Stefan tell them all about Wendwater, Blackhaven and Summerhall intently. Joy shifted uneasily as he got to the tale about Jon Connington.

"So, after I knocked him down, I pounded him over and over with my arm." Stefan was telling his little brother mainly. "I couldn't stop! And afterwards I knew I had to end it, so when he was too dazed on the floor I had to finish him."

"Can we not while we're eating?" Joy scolded.

"Sorry Mother." Stefan replied. Joy sighed.

"I knew Jon Connington, I remember being a young girl at Harrenhal, I had begged my Lord Father to go, House Penrose isn't a big House, but we had a few knights entering and he let me. I remember watching him dance with Ashara Dayne."

Stefan looked at his Mother sadly. "I had no choice."

Joy smiled. "I know that, war is war and you men will fight it no matter how scared your Mother gets. He was a good man once, but his failure at the Stoney Sept cost him dearly."

"His failure to find Robert Baratheon?" Margaery asked.

"Yes." Joy said. "That war was awful in the Stormlands, brother fought brother here more than anywhere. I couldn't believe it."

"Well, war is over now." Stefan noted, and held up his glass with his remaining hand. "We are at peace for the first time in years, and long may that continue. With a new Baratheon on the way, we have much to look forward too."

"Hear hear." Margaery smiled, clinking glasses with her husband gently.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Davos asked. "When will I move to Wendwater?"

Stefan finished his mouthful before answering. "You'll move in with a regent after you turn 16, and you will take over two years later."

Davos started grinning, until Margaery said. "You will have to marry soon then, Lord Davos." She teased.

Davos groaned, and Stefan laughed. "Aye you will, I've been asked to find some suitable names for him while I'm here."

"If you pick someone fat and ugly!" Davos cried, making Stefan laugh even more.

"Davos!" Joy scolded. "No matter who you marry you will treat with the utmost respect!"

"Yes Mother." He said, his voice low.

Margaery turned to Stefan. "I have some cousins that would just love him." She whispered.

Stefan nodded. "I'm sure My Lady, but my Father was very specific. He wishes for a bride from as close to the Kingswood as we can get to pacify the region. I think Lord Buckler has a daughter that would be perfect."

"As Lord Stannis wishes." Margaery smiled, though Stefan could see she wasn't overly happy. Putting that to one side however, he smiled down at her belly.

"Boy or girl?" He asked.

Joy overheard this. "I was right every time with my three." She told Margaery. "A Mother's intuition is like nothing else."

Margaery smiled. "I'm hoping for a boy, of course. A future Lord Baratheon with thick, black hair and blue eyes that's as strong as his Father."

Stefan could almost feel himself blush. "I'm not strong." He tried to be modest.

"You are." Joy said sternly. "My boy, you've come through trauma most grown men struggle with, and are stronger for it now."

Stefan was grateful, and they finished their meal happily. Margaery grew tired soon however, and Stefan helped her to their chambers. "I'm surprised you haven't moved to your own rooms while I've been away My Lady." He said.

"I feel more at home here, My Lord." She told him. "It doesn't face the sea, I always get a bit scared when I hear the crashing waves all night."

Stefan could understand. "It's harsher than the Reach for sure, but I'm sure you'll get used to it." He tried to be kind.

The appreciation seemed genuine. "My Lord is too kind." She smiled.

"I have missed you." He told her. "My nights have been so lonely these past months."

Margaery chuckled as she unlaced his shirt and pushed him to the bed. "Well, Lord Husband. Shall we make up for that?"

* * *

Life in Winterfell was getting back to normal, or as normal as it could get without Ned Stark. Catelyn had been vital in the rebuilding efforts, and the wooden walkways on the battlements were completed already, the bright wood sticking out however, and so Catelyn had sent a rider to White Harbour to try and procure some form of paint from the Free Cities to darken the wood. Inside the castle, the keep was being refurbished and the stores restocked, as the Northern Houses with the help of the Reach began to ensure that Winterfell could last through a very long Winter.

Arya found herself learning about castle maintenance and leading men, and Sansa had to admit she was impressed at how much her sister wanted to learn. She was also learning how to fight properly, as her Mother's sworn sword Lady Brienne of Tarth drilled her twice a day. Sansa found herself watching down on the training yard with a heavily pregnant Roslin next to her. They watched as Arya parried all of Brienne's blows, learning how to move her feet properly in the face of different dangers.

"She is rather good." Roslin noted.

"She is." Sansa admitted. "She's always been like this, would rather play with swords than act like a proper Lady. I remember being so angry at her for so long when we were younger."

"Those skills likely kept her alive." Roslin said, and Sansa could only agree. The red-head had gotten on well with Robb's wife over the last year or so, and they had become good friends. Roslin sharply pulled a hand to her bulging belly, and winced in pain.

"Are you ok?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, I'm fine." Roslin grimaced. "He's just very excitable today. He keeps kicking."

Sansa personally thought the baby would be a girl, although a boy now would solve many problems. "She must be close to being born." Sansa noted.

"A month or so, the new Maester says." Roslin said. "He'll be furious that I'm out in the cold."

"As am I." A voice said from behind them, and rising up some stairs to their position was Catelyn Stark. She joined them overlooking Arya. "You should be resting indoors My Lady."

"I feel too cooped up in there, Lady Stark." Roslin told her. "At the Twins we could never leave, and Winterfell is so grand. I just can't stay indoors too long. And the baby is of the North, he is one with the cold."

"I keep telling you, I am not Lady Stark anymore." Cat smiled softly. "That title belongs to you now, you are married to the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I only birthed him."

"You will always be Lady Stark." Roslin told her.

Cat appreciated that, Sansa could see, as they returned to watching Arya down below. She was on the offensive now, and Sansa could feel her sister's grin as she managed to catch Brienne unawares on the side. "She's gotten good." Cat admitted.

"She needs to be, if she is to be Lady of Moat Cailin." Sansa said. She wasn't jealous anymore, after seeing the Moat for what it was Sansa thought it was more like a punishment than an honour, even though work had been made to make it habitable and to give the marshes some solid ground to try and spring a village up by the castle.

"I still can't believe that." Cat chuckled. "Commander Arya of Moat Cailin. The title suits her, strangely." Sansa agreed, and noticed Cat rustling in her cloak. She pulled out a raven letter and gave it to Sansa.

Reading it, Sansa had a mix of emotions. "Lord Garlan died at Summerhall." She said sadly.

"Yes, but the King won and Viserys must have been executed by now. That war is over." Cat said. "Read on."

Sansa already had. "Lord Mace wishes to postpone the wedding until a period of mourning has elapsed."

Cat nodded. "I'm sorry Sansa."

Sansa smiled. "It's ok Mother, I'm ok with this. It means I can stay home for longer, I can meet my niece…"

"Nephew." Roslin jested."

"Niece." Sansa grinned, before her face returned to a faint smile. "It means I can be at home for my 17th name day, I can wait to wed."

Cat smiled again and hugged her daughter. "We will give you the best name day we can." She promised. "Then we shall start to make arrangements for the trip to Highgarden."

Sansa nodded. She didn't really want to go back South, she wanted to stay in Winterfell with her family, but she knew that Winterfell needed the help of the Reach, and with her going to Highgarden the trade between the Reach and the North could improve, meaning the North would receive more and more food to survive through Winter. For now though, she was relishing the time spent at home, caring nothing for anything below the Neck.

* * *

Another product of the Treaty of Hayford was coming to pass in King's Landing, as Shireen Baratheon was leaving to head to Riverrun to foster with Lord Edmure. She was leaving with two of her friends from the Stormlands, Cassana Swann and Bethany Rogers. The greyscale scarred girl shared a fierce hug with Myrcella, before hugging Tommen too. She stood in front of Durran and Dany, curtseying.

"Your Grace, Your Grace." She said formally.

"You take care in Riverrun." Dany told her.

"I shall, I'll have Beth and Cass with me, and I've written to Lord Edmure a couple of times, he seems nice enough." Shireen admitted.

"If he's not, you just write to me and I'll come and visit." Durran said sternly, but he couldn't hold his grin in and brought his cousin into a hug. "Riverrun is said to be beautiful, I'm sure you'll love it."

Shireen smiled sadly, before she moved to Durran's right and stood before her Father. "You write to me as soon as you arrive." He told her.

"I will Father." Shireen smiled.

"I'll come and visit when I can." Stannis added.

"Father, I'll be fine." She insisted. "You're very busy here, don't worry about me."

Stannis shook his head, before awkwardly bringing Shireen in for a hug. "You're my daughter. I will always worry about you." Shireen had a tear in her eye as she pulled away, and she let Stannis wipe it. "Go now, the litter is waiting." He told her.

Shireen nodded, and stepped into the carriage that was to take her up the Kingsroad before turning off to Riverrun. 20 Stormlander guards had been assigned to stay with her at the request of Durran. Shireen waved a final time as the carriage pulled away from the Red Keep, and they all waved Shireen goodbye.

Stannis immediately excused himself, and the others walked ambiently into the Throne Room. Tommen was telling Dany all about his training, as she was keeping him occupied, leaving Durran to talk to his sister.

"I had a raven from Edric Dayne today." He told her. The Dayne Lord had gone back to Dorne to help with the final push towards Sunspear. Most of Dorne had fallen and bent the knee towards Edric, but there were still some Houses close to Sunspear that held out.

"How is he?" Myrcella asked.

"He's well. He's besieging Salt Shore, Lord Tremond Gargalen is being stubborn or something." Durran shrugged. "He hoped you were well. I think he is quite taken with you."

Myrcella tried to hide her blush, but failed. "May I reply?" She asked.

Durran laughed. "Of course, sweet sister. You are betrothed, you should get to know one another before you wed."

"Do you know when that will be yet?" She asked. Durran shook his head.

"Once Dorne has surrendered fully and is pacified, then I'll feel comfortable sending you there." He said, placing his hand on her cheek and stroking it with his thumb. "I won't allow it until I know you will be safe."

Myrcella smiled. "You worry too much Durran."

"It's my job to worry about you." Durran told her. "You're soon to be going to a country that hates us Cella."

She shook her head. "They may hate us, but Edric is loved by the Dornish, when I give him a son, things will change."

Durran kissed her forehead. "You're too good for Dorne, I'm sorry I forced this on you."

"It's necessary." She waved off. "And he was good to me when he was here. I won't be unhappy."

Durran nodded. "As I said to Shireen, if you are ever mistreated, you write to me and I'll be there." He told her strongly. Myrcella just slapped his arm softly.

"There will be no need for that." She shook her head.

Durran let her run after Tommen, and he watched as the two blondes sat down on the steps in front of the Iron Throne, as Dany made her way over to him. She took his hands in her own and swivelled around so he was hugging her from behind.

"You'll miss her." She said, it wasn't a question.

"Of course." Durran said. "I'll miss them both, Tommen will have to leave soon to Casterly Rock. Other than at Dragonstone and when away at war I've always had them both nearby."

Dany sighed and leant backwards into him. "You can visit often I'm sure."

"I know." Durran nodded. "Everything is changing though, Shireen is soon to be with her future husband, we have a child, Tommen will have to be married soon…" He trailed off.

Dany stroked his arm gently. "We all have to grow up eventually, we were just forced to do so before we should have." She sighed.

Durran nodded, and held his wife tighter. He knew things had to change, he just didn't want them too, and selfishly he almost wanted Dorne to stay in rebellion for a while longer, so he could keep his family close to him.

* * *

The bells from the ship woke Gendry up. The siege had been dull for so long, but Ser Davos claimed it was necessary. The odd ship had been captured with nobles and common folk alike trying to flee during the night, but none had warranted bells before. He got out of his hammock and put on his Stormlander leather armour, still feeling weird about wearing his Father's colours. Arriving above deck, he noticed Ser Davos by the wheel.

"Ah, Gendry." Ser Davos said.

"What's going on?" Gendry asked.

"Another rowboat, but some… interesting passengers." Davos explained. "You've heard of Prince Oberyn?"

Gendry had to think, but nodded. "Prince Doran's brother, right? He's dead."

"Aye, died at Summerhall." Davos nodded. "They do things differently in Dorne, he had a paramour and three bastard warrior girls. We've captured them."

Gendry was surprised at that. "That's good, isn't it? Is Prince Doran with them?"

Davos chuckled. "Prince Doran won't be moving anywhere, but with his family captured, we may go home soon lad."

Gendry grinned, he had enjoyed himself slightly but he missed land. Davos started walking down as the prisoners were being hauled up on to the deck. Gendry stood back, and watched as Ser Davos spoke to them.

"You are Ellaria Sand?" He asked the eldest woman. "Paramour of the late Prince Oberyn." The woman didn't reply, she just glared towards Davos. He didn't seem affected by it. "And these are your daughters? Tyene, Nymeria and Obella is it?"

"Obara." The eldest daughter spat.

"Obara, that's right." Davos nodded. "I apologise, Obara Sand. Tell me, why are you trying to escape? Is Prince Doran about to surrender? Are you trying to fund a sellsword army from Essos?"

"Fuck you, Baratheon dog." Obara snarled, spitting at the floor by Davos' feet.

"That's unnecessary." Davos commented, looking down at the wetness on the deck. "My Ladies, you are known traitors. Your Father fought against the King for the Queen's traitor brother. Your Uncle has been removed from his positions as ruler of Sunspear and of Dorne. House Martell has been ordered to submit itself to King's Landing for trial. Confess and renounce Prince Doran and Viserys Targaryen, and we'll let you live. Claim Durran Baratheon your King and he will spare you."

"You think we'd kneel before the Usurper's spawn and his whore?" Ellaria Sand laughed. "They slaughtered Elia and her babes, they slaughtered Oberyn! We would never bow down to them, no true Dornish would!"

"Most have." Davos shrugged. "Very well, then my orders are clear. The King sentences you to the gibbets. You will be locked in a coffin cage and remain there until you expire. When the people of Sunspear look out to the ships they see here, they will see your corpses rotting, and know that this is their fate if they don't surrender."

Gendry saw the youngest quickly throw her eyes towards the middle sister, and noticed Nymeria place her hands towards her stomach. She was wearing a thick cloak, but Gendry had been around enough people to know pregnancy when he saw it. He stepped forwards and whispered in Ser Davos' ear. "The middle one, is she pregnant?"

Davos turned around, alarmed. He nodded to two guards. "Bring her to me." The guards obliged, and Nymeria Sand couldn't break free as the men held her in place in front of Davos. She was likely around 6 months gone, and she looked scared. "Can I make a guess? Be honest with me." He asked. "This is Viserys Targaryen's child, isn't it?"

Gendry was shocked, and even more so when over the screams of Ellaria and her sisters to say nothing, Nymeria nodded.

"The rightful King or Queen is in my belly." She grinned.

"No, he's not." Gendry couldn't help himself. She pulled her attention to him.

"Usurper!" She screamed, and had to be held back as she tried to claw her way over to him. Gendry took a step back in fear, as Davos regained control.

"This isn't King Durran girl. But he's right, your child will inherit nothing. Its fate will be decided by the King. Lock her in the brig." The other prisoners voiced their discontent, cursing Davos, Gendry's Father, Durran and every Baratheon and Lannister they could name as Nymeria was dragged below deck. Davos tried to calm them down, but the women wouldn't. "Please!" Davos shouted, earning silence but the girls still were struggling to break free. "If you continue to resist and curse the King and his family, I have orders to rip out your tongues, don't make me do that."

"What does it matter." Obara spat. "You're killing us anyway; the baby killer's son will kill another baby and Dorne shall rise again. Take my tongue, dog. Fuck your King."

"Obara…" Ellaria hissed, and Gendry saw that Davos looked defeated. "She didn't mean it."

"I did." Obara said proudly. "FUCK the Usurper Baratheon, and fuck his spawn. Fuck the whore Queen. They shall all rot in the Seven Hells for their crimes!"

Davos shook his head, and nodded to a man by the brazier. Obara Sand was brought to her knees and her mouth was forced open. She tried to bite down but the soldiers holding her were too strong. Ellaria and Tyene were screaming at them to stop, and Gendry winced as the red-hot pincers were brought out. The man walked over towards Obara, and Gendry had to look away as her screams and cries grew and grew, until no more noise came from her mouth.

"Lock the others up in the gibbets." Davos said, sounding a little ill. "Send a rower to Prince Doran telling him all, I want his surrender tonight."

Gendry himself rushed back to his hammock, although he couldn't sleep and just stared up at the wooden ceiling until it was time to rise again. As he was scrubbing the decks, he looked up to see three gibbets hanging from the mast, with three mentally broken individuals inside them.

* * *

Dany waited until Durran was asleep before she slipped quietly into a black and red gown and left their chambers. After struggling to convince Ser Balon to let her be, she left the Red Keep in darkness, riding over to the Dragonpit.

It was the dead of night, the stars shone brightly and the only light so far out of the main city was the single torch that Melisandre had placed just off of the pyre she had built. On top of the pyre was the body of her brother, dressed in the clothes he had died in, his head resewn earlier that day.

"Your Grace." Melisandre greeted her.

"My Lady." Dany replied. "Are you sure about this?"

Melisandre added some extra kindling, before answering. "It would be better had he been alive, but there is power in King's Blood and you are both descended from Kings. Somehow, I promise you a victory."

Dany wasn't sure, Durran had strictly forbidden it but she had seen the power of fire with her own eyes, and the Lady had gifts. "If Durran finds out about this…"

"I shall take the blame." Melisandre insisted. "R'hllor will protect me Your Grace. He has a plan for us all, Prince Viserys' destiny was to die here, and now he can be reborn as something positive from the flames."

Dany nodded, and stood back as Melisandre went about her rituals. Dany noticed her dragons appearing from below, and taking flight above the Dragonpit. Melisandre took the torch and held it to the base of the pyre, and Dany watched on as the flames rose up, and engulfed Viserys' peaceful body.

She stayed there for hours, until the flames died down and nothing was left but ash. Kneeling before the pyre, she picked up a small handful of the ash and let it slip through her fingers. Eyes closed in mourning for her family name, that would die with her.

A noise from behind her caught her attention, as she saw Rhaellar curled up. Daenerys stood up and walked slowly over to her mount. "What's the matter?" She asked the white dragon, stroking its nose. Rhaellar slowly moved her tail, to reveal two objects that shocked Dany to her bones. A light blue and bright yellow dragon eggs.


	30. The Chosen

Taking a break from sparring with Rodrik Forrester, Robb let his sword hang low in his hand and looked up towards the stream of men of the Night's Watch heading into the Mess Hall.

"Who do you think they'll choose?" Rodrik asked, wiping his brow of sweat.

Robb sighed. "As little as I like it, Thorne will be chosen, he's the most experienced."

"What will happen then?" Rodrik asked.

Robb wasn't overly sure. "I'll have to gather the Lords of the North. All of them, and explain everything. We cannot afford to leave them up there, not with the White Walkers coming."

Rodrik nodded, though looked slightly unsettled. "I don't know how you're going to convince some of them, especially the Whitehills." He spat.

Robb wasn't amused. "Your feud with the Whitehill's is known to me, Rodrik, but it's not what is important, what matters is we survive the coming Winter and everything it throws at us together. The North needs to be united to face the storms."

"Aye, My Lord." Rodrik replied. "Forgive me."

Robb nodded, "You're forgiven." He noticed Jon's friend Sam walking across the courtyard quickly. "Give me a moment." He said to Rodrik, who nodded and watched Robb stride across to greet his brother's friend. "Tarly!"

Sam seemed startled, before relaxing when he saw Robb. "Lord Stark, forgive me I didn't see you."

Robb waved it off. "Not to worry Sam, I just wanted a quick word before you head in." Sam looked a bit confused. "Look, Jon tells me you're the smartest man he's known, and for him to think that over our Maester is impressive."

"He said that?" Sam asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Aye." Robb nodded. "And I'm sure someone as clever as you understands that Thorne is likely to win the vote." Sam nodded. "And someone as clever as you will understand what that will mean for the future."

Sam gulped. "We'll have to fight the Wildling's again." He whispered.

Robb placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and leant in closer. "That can't be allowed to happen, Sam. If it does then I can't stand by and let the Watch and the Wildling's slaughter each other knowing what you say is coming."

"I don't blame you for that." Sam told him, his voice sounding terrified. "It was terrifying, truly. The crows were cawing loudly as Gilly and I had settled in for the night. They were all sat on the Weirwood tree, just looking at me with haunted eyes while screaming out, until they all stopped at once and Gilly had frozen in fear. A single White Walker walked towards us slowly, so slowly, but it was the most scared I've ever been I think and I've seen the Army of the Dead, Lord Stark."

"You were scared for Gilly and the baby more than yourself." Robb deduced.

"Yes." Sam nodded. "I shouted at it to stay back but it just gripped my sword and shattered the steel into a thousand pieces before hitting me out of the way and going for baby Sam."

Robb felt colder than he'd ever been at hearing the story. "How did you stop it?" He whispered.

"Obsidian." Sam replied. "It was the only weapon I had on me, I just ran at it and stabbed it in the back. It screamed an awful scream and just turned to something like ice before it crumbled away."

Robb nodded. "You're a very brave man, Samwell Tarly. Not many would risk their lives for a Wildling."

Sam had a hint of a blush. "I'm not brave, I was terrified all the time." He said.

Robb remembered something that his Father had told him as a child. "A man can only be truly brave if he is scared at the same time."

Sam appreciated that. "I should go Lord Stark." Sam nodded towards the mess hall.

"Aye." Robb nodded. "Remember, Thorne can't win."

Sam agreed. "I have a plan, I think." He said, before walking up the wooden steps, leaving only Northmen in the courtyard.

* * *

The Northerners could hear the cheering and chants of 'Snow' from the courtyard, and Robb couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride for his brother. He and the other Northern men retreated to their camp for the night to let the Watch handle the new transition, but the next day Robb was called to the Lord Commander's Tower.

He sat down at the desk, and kept grinning at Jon as he sat in the Lord Commander's chair. "Olly, leave us for a moment. Go and train with Grenn."

"Yes, Lord Commander." The boy replied, bowing slightly and vacating the room. Robb couldn't hold in his laughter.

"I'm never getting used to that." Jon sighed, pouring himself and Robb some ale.

Robb chuckled, taking the mug and having a sip. "I'm the same whenever I'm called Lord Stark. I still feel as if Father will be standing behind me, and I'm just in the way of the words."

Jon smiled sadly. "I miss him." He admitted.

"Me too." Robb agreed. He held his cup out. "To Father."

"Father." Jon repeated, clinking the bone mug with Robb's.

"What do you think he'd say?" Jon asked. "Seeing us here now, Lord of Winterfell and Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

Robb leant back in his chair. "He'd be proud of you for sure." He told Jon.

Jon smiled shyly. "And you, all the Lords love you."

"I took them to war." Robb interrupted. "They love me because I was strong, in a war I was too arrogant to stop. Thousands died because of my pride, Jon. Father wouldn't be happy with that."

"He took people to war for family too." Jon reminded Robb. "You've worked things out with King Durran, and that relationship will be key in the future when we need the realm. You can't beat yourself up about it. I would have done the same."

Robb looked slightly uneasy, but took another drink and nodded. "I suppose. In any case, now that you are Lord Commander we need to plan for the future."

Jon agreed. "I'm going to send an envoy to Mance today and tell him that we can move forwards with relocating the Free Folk, but we need to talk to the King."

"I'll go South." Robb said. "You and Mance should join me, with the Lord Commander, myself and the King Beyond the Wall we can convince him that the threat is real."

Jon stood up, finishing his drink and walking over to the window to look out over Castle Black. "I can't go, Robb."

"What?" The Stark asked.

"I'm not overly popular already." Jon sighed. "Leaving now is not a wise decision."

Robb shook his head. "It will make Durran take notice if you were there too telling him about the dangers that you've seen."

"And Sam has seen more than I have." Jon replied.

"Sam? Tarly?"

"Aye." Jon nodded, turning to his brother. "He's seen the Army of the Dead and he's killed a Walker. I want to send him down to Oldtown anyway, to train to be a Maester, King's Landing is just on the way."

Robb couldn't argue with the logic. "Are you sure you can't come? It will be better coming from you."

Jon shook his head. "I'm needed here. While Mance is away I will have to start seeing the Free Folk through the wall. Sam is capable, I trust him with my life."

"Then I trust him with mine too." Robb told his brother. "I shall leave tomorrow."

"So soon?" Jon asked.

"It's for the best. The sooner the King understands the sooner the Watch can be aided." Robb explained. "I shall leave Lord Umber in command of the Northerners for now and have Lord Glover sent up to relieve him, just make sure that the Wildling's don't cause problems, he will react."

Jon nodded, and Robb stood up to hug him. "I'll miss you." Jon admitted.

"You're Lord Commander now, Jon, by the will of your brothers." Robb reminded him. "You're not in my shadow anymore, you don't need me."

* * *

The full Small Council was in session as the High Septon, bloodied and bruised, entered the room. He stood before the table and greeted all the members. "Your Grace, Your Grace, Lord Hand, Lord Tyrell, Lord Tarly, Lord Varys, Ser Barristan, erm…"

"Ser Daven Lannister, High Septon." Durran reminded him.

"Forgive me Your Grace, Ser Daven." The High Septon bowed.

"What is it you want?" Lord Tarly asked impatiently.

The High Septon cleared his throat. "As the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, I give voice to the will of the Gods and am their foremost servant in this world…"

"You speak for the Gods, but surely their own chosen King is their greatest Servant." Stannis replied briskly.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. You are indeed, but as the representative of the Gods, an insult to me is also an insult to the Seven, and an assault on my person is an assault on our very religion." The High Septon said.

"I'd agree with that." Durran nodded. "Are you saying you were assaulted?"

"Yes, Your Grace. By those fanatics that call themselves the sparrows." The High Septon explained. "They humiliated me they beat me, they left me naked and bleeding on the cobblestones."

"They themselves stripped you?" Dany asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Your Grace." Varys interceded. "The High Septon was being entertained by a handful of whores in an old establishment of Lord Baelish's."

"High Septon!" Lord Tyrell exclaimed. "This is a rather shocking thing to hear."

"I was there for religious purposes!" The High Septon almost shouted, his voice growing squeakier. "Those sparrows almost killed me with their brutality!"

Durran turned to Daven Lannister, who nodded. "There have been reports of robed men assaulting people they name as sinners. We are trying to contain it but these fanatics are often harder to stamp out."

"Be more forceful with them." Tarly said gruffly. "If they grab another person in this manner again, they should lose the extremity that they used."

"I think we can be a bit more lenient than resorting to cutting off limbs this early on Lord Tarly." Dany said calmly.

"These people are obviously being led by somebody." Ser Barristan added. "Do we know who?"

"Their leader goes by the name of High Sparrow. An insult to my position." The High Septon spat.

"Your position?" Stannis asked. "Forgive me, I'm not the most devout after the Gods were kind enough to leave my only daughter scarred by Greyscale, but aren't all Septons sworn to celibacy?"

"They are, Lord Hand." Varys nodded. "The vows are quite strict about it."

"Then you are abusing your own position and breaking the very vows you swore when you became a Septon." Lord Tarly said.

"I…" The High Septon stammered.

"At the wall, traitors to the vows are hanged." Stannis reminded the Septon. The religious man went white as a sheet.

"Lord Hand… I broke no vows…"

"Don't lie to us, High Septon." Durran shouted sharply, banging his fist on the table. The room fell silent at the outburst. "We know all about your trips to the brothels and what you ask for, we know all about how you mock the Gods by getting whores to dress up as them before fucking the one you fancy on the occasion. If it were down to me I'd happily strip you of your position now for mocking the Seven, but it isn't up to me."

"Your Grace…" The High Septon pleaded.

"Silence." Durran snapped, causing the old man to tremble. "Grand Maester."

"Your Grace." Pycelle wheezed.

"Write to Oldtown. I want the Most Devout to hear of the High Septon's actions for themselves and they can take their decision." Durran ordered him, before turning to the High Septon. "Speak with Ser Daven about the descriptions of the men that assaulted you, High Septon. Attacking the voice of the Gods is a crime punishable by death and those that attacked you shall receive that punishment. Hopefully it will send a warning to these Sparrows that they cannot take the law into their own hands."

"Thank you, Your Grace." The High Septon said, less than enthusiastically.

"You can go." Durran said. The High Septon didn't need to be told twice as he quickly took himself out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. "Ser Daven, make sure he has a four-man guard on him at all times. For his protection and the protection of his vows." Durran ordered.

"I shall see to it as soon as the meeting is over." Daven nodded.

Randyll Tarly wasn't amused. "We are to do nothing but guard that man?"

Durran nodded. "The man is still the High Septon, and until the Most Devout come up with a decision that is to be respected, Lord Tarly. I will personally investigate these sparrows though, they are more trouble than I need. Varys, get me a location on this High Sparrow." The eunuch bowed his head in acceptance. "Is there anything else?"

Pycelle reached into his robe and brought out a letter. "From Castle Black, Your Grace."

"Castle Black?" Dany asked. "An update with the Wildlings perhaps?"

Durran waited until he had read the message before commenting. "Jon Snow has been named as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." He chuckled.

"Ned Stark's bastard?" Dany asked.

"Yes. I spoke with him once, at Winterfell." Durran noted. "Anyway, it just says that Robb Stark himself is coming to King's Landing with a representative of the Night's Watch and a Wildling to discuss a grave threat."

"He's bringing a Wildling to the Capital?" Randyll Tarly asked, disgusted.

"We can't allow such savages in the city, Your Grace." Pycelle complained.

"Grand Maester, the only difference between them and the Northerner's is the side of the Wall they were when it was built." Ser Barristan said. "If Lord Stark believes this to be a wise idea, then we must listen to him. He is Warden of the North, the only matters he needs to bring to you are those of great importance to the entire realm."

Stannis nodded. "Ser Barristan is right. I don't like the thought any more than you do, Lord Tarly, but for Stark to come here so soon after being at War with us, it must be important. We should give him a chance to talk."

"And we shall." Durran said. "In front of the Small Council for all to hear."

Stannis nodded. "I believe that is all, Your Grace."

"Very well." Durran said, standing up and watching as everybody else did the same. "Until next time My Lords." Letting Dany take his arm, the royal couple walked out of the room before everybody else.

* * *

A few hours later, Dany had gone off to ensure suitable rooms would be prepared for the Warden of the North's arrival, and Durran managed to get a few hours to himself that he spent walking the battlements of the Red Keep with his Mother, Jaime Lannister on duty behind them. Cersei's arm was locked with her sons, and they walked around until they stopped, looking out towards the rich blue sea of Blackwater Bay.

"It's so strange to think that the bay was the site of a battle not too long ago." Durran noted nostalgically.

"It happens all over the world. Men fight and die and the places they fight soon fade back into the same as they've always been." Cersei replied. "And the world keeps on going as if nothing ever happened."

"It shouldn't be so peaceful out." Durran added, as they watched a lone trading ship pulling in towards the city docks. "Not with these fanatics running about the city causing havoc."

Cersei pursed her lips. "Yes, I've heard about these 'sparrows'." She told Durran.

"Daven thinks they can be contained." Durran said.

Cersei rolled her eyes. "And his Father thinks the moon is made of some form of cheese. He's the son of a halfwit."

Durran had a grin at that. "Didn't you call Father a halfwit more than once?"

Cersei couldn't contain the hint of a smirk. "Yes, but luckily for you, you inherited your Mother's smarts."

Durran laughed aloud, and turned to Jaime. "Did I?"

"Oh no, Your Grace. You have a lot more wits than your Mother I assure you." Jaime chuckled.

"Need I remind you about the time you jumped off of a cliff at Casterly Rock?" Cersei raised an eyebrow.

Jaime shook his head amused. "It was perfectly safe, until you told Father about it."

Cersei smiled sadly. "We never did find out what happened to him."

Durran shook his head and lay his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "With everything that happened, there was no time. It was war though, however dishonourable sending an assassin was, it wasn't any less than he would have considered."

Jaime agreed. "And now we have Tommen to nurture into Lord Lannister. We must look to the future, Cersei, however hard that may be."

Durran stared back out to sea. "I need to go and see the High Sparrow." He sighed.

"You should just send the Gold Cloaks to kill any sparrow they see." Cersei disagreed. "Let them grow and these fanatics will ruin you. Stop it now before it's too late."

Durran looked at his Mother incredulously. "Most of them have done no wrong, yet I should slaughter them?"

"They're better dead now than alive later to cause you issues." Cersei argued, but Durran couldn't bring himself to entertain the idea.

"No, if I start executing people before they commit a crime that deserves it I'm no better than Joffrey, or Aerys." Durran told her with gritted teeth. "I shall take the Queen and meet with this man. He has a portion of the people of the city behind him, if we can come to an arrangement then it will be more prosperous than wiping out religious men would be, no matter how fanatical they seem."

* * *

The siege of Sunspear was still ongoing, but Davos was hopeful that it would soon come to an end. Word had reached him that the Dayne army, along with House Yronwood and House Wyl of note, had just taken Lemonwood to the South of the Greenblood, and were crossing it over the remains of Plankytown. A few more days and the army would be outside Sunspear, the city already starving. Doran Martell couldn't hold on much longer.

Davos would relish the end of the siege. He missed his wife, he missed land. He missed being able to take in the fresh air without the hoarse screams of Ellaria Sand and her youngest daughter. Obara Sand had died two days before, and her body was just left to rot in her gibbet. Davos shuddered at the thought, in his eyes no person should suffer that fate, but the King wanted examples to be made that treason against him will be met as severely as the fate of Castamere.

He grabbed a small loaf of almost stale bread and a cup of water and went into the lowest part of his ship, where Nymeria Sand was locked in a comfortable room. Unlocking the door, he went inside and locked it again, noticing her sat in a corner, teary eyed.

"My Lady, some food for you." Davos said, placing it on the table. Nymeria didn't say anything nor did she move, the woman only sat there scowling. "I thought I should tell you that Lord Dayne is approaching Sunspear, very soon the siege will be over and we shall be headed to the Capital to meet with the King."

"Usurper spawn." She snarled, spitting on the ground.

"The rightful King of the Seven Kingdom's, My Lady." Davos corrected.

"He's a murderer." Nymeria spat. "My sisters… my mother…"

Davos sighed sadly. "Were traitors, as are you, My Lady, and the King will judge you justly."

"Justly?" Nymeria laughed. "This King of yours is only on the throne because of the murder of children. Your precious Durran will do just the same as soon as he hears."

Davos shook his head. "He will not, whatever you think of House Baratheon, the Queen is a Targaryen and this child her own blood. I will personally ask for mercy for you too, My Lady. A child needs its mother."

Nymeria scowled. "My life is over as soon as this baby is born, I know it. Your pretty Dayne boy may have stolen the loyalty of Dorne for now, but when my son is murdered by the command of your weak King, Dorne will revolt."

Davos could see that the conversation was going nowhere, so he stood up. "King Robert once wanted to crush Daenerys Targaryen's skull as a new born baby, but Lord Stannis talked him down. King Durran is not his father, and Lord Stannis is the same man as he's always been. You won't believe me I know that, but your child will be safe." With that he left the room, locking it behind him as he went before heading back to his own quarters. He was stopped on the way by Gendry however.

"Ser Davos! Ser Davos!"

"What is it?" Davos asked.

"On land, an army approaches Sunspear, with purple banners."

Davos nodded and breathed easier in relief. "House Dayne. Gendry, this war is almost over."

* * *

A rather large guard had been deemed necessary to escort Durran and Daenerys towards the area Varys had promised him that he would find this High Sparrow. The route down took longer than planned, as members of the public called out and spoke to him fondly, and Durran obliged by speaking to a few of them for a moment and handing out some food to the poorer amongst them. Dismounting his horse, he waited for Dany to leave the litter before offering her his arm, and turning to Ser Barristan.

"Have yourself and Ser Arys follow us, the rest of you stay here." He told the Lord Commander, looking towards the dozens of men in Stormlands yellow behind them.

"Your Grace, is that wise?" Ser Balon Swann asked.

Durran nodded, and Dany replied. "None of these people will hurt us, Balon. They're just hungry. Get the remaining bread and hand it out equally to those who need it."

"Yes, My Queen." He bowed, and went off to see to the orders, leaving Durran to walk towards the narrow opening, blocked by a man in a filthy, loose hanging shirt.

"Is the High Sparrow still here?" Durran asked. The man nodded, and pointed up the steps, and Durran led his wife and the two Kingsguard up them. People were everywhere, all looking thoroughly depressed and dirty, and it made Durran feel a bit guilty. Noticing that nobody was looking to harm them, Durran turned around to face Ser Arys. "Go and get two sacks of the leftovers from the kitchens and have it brought here." He said, and the Kingsguard nodded and went to see to it.

Men women and children were dotted around the place, either lining up with bowls or slowly filling themselves up with the broth on offer. When Durran left the steps, most eyes turned to him and Dany, and whispers of ' _the King!_ ' filled the air. Some hesitantly started to kneel, but Durran stopped them. "There's no need for that, today we are just humble servants of the Seven. Go back to your meals."

The crowd did so, and Durran noticed the old man with the ladle serving everybody looking at him. He softly pulled Dany towards the man, who bowed his head. "Your Grace, Your Grace. I must admit I did not expect to see you today."

"We've heard all about the good work you do for the people of King's Landing." Dany began, their tactic beginning. "I think it's wonderful, and we would both like to help you out today, if you'll have us?"

"Who am I to refuse the Queen." The man smiled. "It would likely be a first, the royal couple helping out the poor in such a fashion."

"It's sometimes difficult to understand the true suffering of the people upon Aegon's Hill." Dany smiled sweetly. "That will change though, we have more food being brought to us now."

The pair got behind the table and started to spoon the broth into the bowls of those in need. Durran made brief conversation with each of them. Dany herself was in deep conversation with the High Sparrow, as he was talking about his humble origins of being a cobbler.

"And one day, after a party I had held, all my fine tastes laid to bare for the world to see, I woke up early and clarity struck me. Realising that I was a sinner, I was lying to myself, you see. I wasn't a noble man, but I was using the gold and the wine to lie to the world, and the people without the gold, the fine clothes and the rich food. They were the people I was trying to climb away from, and they were the ones that I should seek out, to be closer to the Gods." He was explaining, before laughing to himself. "I didn't even take my shoes. Imagine that, a cobbler with no shoes for thirty years."

"It's a fine story." Durran admitted. "An inspiring one to the many that name you 'High Sparrow', no?"

"That name." The man smiled again. "How ridiculous it sounds, like a Lord Duckling."

"It is what people call you." Durran said.

"We are often stuck with the names our enemies give to us." The High Sparrow remarked. "You yourself have been labelled as Durran the Indulgent by a small handful of those unsatisfied with the handling of the Northern rebels."

Durran put on a smile, but inside he was furious. "If I had been a little less indulgent with Lord Stark, then perhaps less people would still live. We do what we have to in order to survive."

"Quite." The man agreed, serving another woman. "I presume you'd agree that these names are a fairly easy burden to hold, for those that name us often don't understand us."

"Which is partly why we are here." Dany acknowledged. "We'd like to know you, to understand you and your following."

"Really? I'd assumed you were here because of that incident with the High Septon."

"It's what brought me to intervene." Durran was honest. "I'm sure you would agree that the representative of the Gods to the people does not deserve to be humiliated in such a fashion."

"I would agree that hypocrisy is a boil, Your Grace. Lancing a boil is never pretty but often necessary. The High Septon has forgotten what he stands for, although the reminder admittedly should have been less severe." The old man said.

Durran stood straighter. "We can't allow such behaviour to continue. Preach all you like and we will have no problem. Do the good work as you are here today and we shall send supplies in plenty to help you to reach more people. I can't stand back and watch you take matters into your own hands and break laws however. Those caught will be punished as befits their crimes."

Dany nodded, and added. "We really do appreciate the work you do, but let the Most Devout handle the High Septon as is their role. The people look up to you, as is clear to see here today, don't let them look up to the leader of a criminal cult."

Durran put down his ladle and straightened his clothes. "I shall have men sweep the streets handing out food on a weekly basis. If there is anything you feel you need to improve the lives of my subjects, seek me out at the Red Keep, but keep your followers under control or I will have to take further action, are we understood?"

"Of course, Your Grace." The man bowed again. Durran made to leave, and heard Dany bid farewell on his way out.

The pair both got into the litter on the way back, and were quiet in talking to one another. "I don't trust him." Dany admitted.

"Nor do I." Durran sighed. "His words about lancing a boil? That sounded more like a threat than a metaphor. If he is looking for sinners…"

"Ser Jaime and your Mother cannot leave the Red Keep." Dany finished for him. Durran couldn't respond, but a strange feeling in his stomach told him that this wouldn't close the matter.


	31. The Younger Wolf

The Royal Fleet had been at sea for over a year, and finally the white flags had been raised over Sunspear. Davos looked out from his ship and smiled for the first time in a while, before bringing Gendry and a few Baratheon men onto his longboat and rowing towards the former Dornish Capital.

They were met in the city by some of the more notable Dornish Lords, led by the Valyrian looking Lord Edric Dayne, who had already received Doran Martell. The Martell patriarch looked like his spirit had been beaten as he slumped in his wheeled chair, his huge bodyguard stood behind him, axeless.

"The onion knight! Glad you could join us." One of the Dornish Lords grinned. His clothing was adorned with black adders, so Davos assumed it was Lord Wyl. "We were just talking with our traitorous former Liege."

"As I recall, you all declared for Viserys." Doran told them sharply.

"They followed you, Doran." Edric Dayne said, not unkindly. "They've seen the error of their ways now."

"A hostage and a raise of taxes later." Another Dornish Lord scoffed. Lord Uller.

"Indeed, your King was extremely merciful." Doran rolled his eyes. "Not to mention slaughtering your nieces, Lord Harmen."

The Uller Lord shifted slightly, and Davos could see that resentment was in his eyes, so he stepped in. "The price of treason, while unfortunate, was set. Your Nieces committed treason, Prince Doran. As have you."

"I know, that is what the histories will write." Doran said calmly. "Very well, we can sit here and chatter nonsensically until Dorne freezes, I presume you have come to take me to King's Landing." He said to Davos.

The former smuggler nodded. "Doran, of House Martell." He began formally. "In the name of Durran, of House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm. I, Ser Davos of House Seaworth, Master of Ships, do accept your surrender. Gendry, help him onto the boats."

The squire nodded, and together with Areo Hotah they led him towards the longboat for transference to King's Landing, leaving Davos alone with the Dornish Lords.

"I thank you for your assistance, Lord Dayne." Davos said. "We've been blockading for a long time, it will be good to go home once more."

"Yes, home does sound sweet after everything that's happened." Edric smiled, before his face turned stoic. "You best return to your ships Ser Davos. I expect the sight will be best viewed from where you are docked."

"Pardon, My Lord?" Davos was confused.

Lord Anders Yronwood, Davos guessed, began grinning. "You don't want to be caught in the explosions, Ser Davos. Finally, I'll be able to piss on the ashes of the home of the man that murdered my Grandfather through trickery." He said, spitting on the floor.

"Now now, Anders." Lord Wyl said. "You know what the saying is, piss on wildfire and your cock burns."

"Wildfire?" Davos asked, horrified.

Edric Dayne nodded, reaching into his purple surcoat and pulling out a slightly battered royal decree. "His Grace ordered Sunspear to be destroyed, so the symbol of House Martell dies with them."

Davos shook his head. "My Lords, Wildfire… it's too dangerous."

"Northern flowers." Lord Uller laughed. "You should visit my castle, Onion Knight. If Wildfire scares you, the bones of Meraxes the fearsome will shake your bones so fiercely they'll turn to dust."

"This story again." Wyl rolled his eyes. "Your ancestors gave the bones back, you have nothing."

"We gave back the beast, but we still have dragon bones." Uller grinned. "Tell me Ser Davos, would you like to see the bones of Rhaenys the beautiful? Although, by the state of them she wasn't beautiful by the end." He roared with laughter.

"That's enough talk about the Targaryen's, My Lords." Dayne spoke commandingly, waving away a soldier that had just ran towards him, and the Dornishmen obeyed the request for quiet, surprising Davos at how quickly Dayne had commanded their respect. "You supposedly have Rhaenys, I'm sure Lord Wyl will spin a story about how they have the skeletal hand of Orys Baratheon in his dungeons. You can compare cock sizes later; the people have evacuated and we're ready. Let's move out of Sunspear."

The Dornish Lords began to depart, as Wyl and Uller were still talking about their ancestor's trophies, but Davos stopped Edric. "My Lord, I've seen what Wildfire can do, I beg you to reconsider."

Edric looked solemn. "These are the King's orders, Ser Davos. I like it about as much as you do, but I owe King Durran everything. His will, my hands." He said.

"It's extreme! These people…" Davos cried, but Edric Dayne interrupted him.

"Have been relocated. I will not see my people homeless, Ser Davos, trust me on this." Davos still didn't like it, but the Lord Paramount of Dorne had given his commands. The Dayne Lord walked to his white stallion and mounted up. "Sometimes we must do horrible things to ensure the coming of a new era of peace, and this will send a message to all who would oppose House Dayne and Baratheon."

With that he rode off, leaving a perplexed Davos internally screaming at the unnecessary action that was about to take place. He quickly made his way back to the boat however, and remained silent as the Baratheon soldiers rowed them all back to Davos' ship.

Around an hour later, Davos watched on from behind the wheel as a flaming arrow was fired from far outside the city, and almost as soon as the flame fell behind the curtain wall the city erupted. The bright green flames caused Davos to wince and hide behind his arm, as the shockwave rocked the ship excessively. Steadying himself, Davos looked beyond his arm to see the hundred-foot tower that gave Sunspear its name crumble from its foundations and topple over back into the city. Sighing at the sight, he collected his emotions and called out to his crew. "Hoist anchor! Let's get ourselves home boys!"

* * *

The snow had turned heavy, and Sansa stared out of the window of her room watching the snowflakes race towards the ground. She felt at peace, her hands happily stitching a new dress for when she finally married Willas Tyrell. It felt strange to her, sewing a Southern dress while also watching a heavy snowstorm, but her future lay in the warmer climates of the Reach, and the soft, silk dress of greens and greys to pay tribute to both her future Houses would be welcomed there.

Focusing back on the dress, she added the fine details of the Direwolf of House Stark into the left shoulder before a faint scream came from down the hallways, and a whine came from the corner of Sansa's room.

"I know, Lady." She sighed to her Direwolf, the well-behaved beast sitting perfectly in the corner. "Lady Roslin will soon have her child though and the screaming will end." She placed her dress daintily on her bed and walked over to scratch the Direwolf behind her ears. She heard the door open, and saw Arya standing there.

"She's gotten big." Arya noted.

Sansa nodded, feeling slightly guilty. "I'm sure Nymeria is bigger, off somewhere in the Kingswood or the Riverlands causing trouble."

Arya breathed out a laugh, before walking into the room. "It's been going on for hours, when will it stop." She groaned, lounging down on the bed. Sansa stood up quickly and took the dress away, folding it neatly and putting it into a drawer.

"Not long." Sansa shook her head, sitting down next to Arya.

"She woke me up this morning while it was still dark." Arya complained again. Sansa smirked.

"I'm sure you will forgive her when you see the baby." Sansa responded, silently hoping both Mother and baby turned out healthy.

Arya shrugged, sitting herself up. "Does Robb know?"

Sansa shook her head, and told Arya the plan that had been made when they heard that Robb was on his way to King's Landing. "After the birth we shall send a raven to King's Landing, and the King will let him know when Robb arrives. He'll be back soon enough I'm sure."

"He should have come home." Arya said, annoyed. "Why would he go there?"

"Robb has his reasons, we need to trust him." Sansa said calmly, she held her arm out and Arya moved herself, so she was resting against Sansa's chest as the elder girl cuddled her close.

They stayed like that for a little while, until their Mother appeared in the doorway, dressed as improperly as they had ever seen her with light blood stains on her arms. Arya bolted upright, and Sansa looked alarmed as well.

"Is Roslin alright? Is the baby ok?" Arya fired off questions quickly.

Cat had tearstained eyes, but nodded. "Lady Roslin is well, the birth was a success. The blood is normal girls, I assure you."

Sansa let out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Arya just turned to her with a grin. "This is your dream? Ha!" She laughed, not unkindly as Sansa was reminded of her speech for wanting to give Joffrey her babies. Shuddering slightly, she lightly hit her sister on the arm before turning to Catelyn. "Can we see her?"

Cat nodded, and stepped backwards so that the girls could race towards the Lords Chamber. The door was slightly ajar, and Roslin was holding her baby, her hair a mess and sweat on her brow. She smiled even more when she noticed the girls in the doorway. Maester Luwin was in the corner, a small amount of blood on his robes too.

"Come in, My Ladies." Luwin said softly. Sansa walked up to the bed, and placed a hand on Roslin's shoulder.

"You're alright, My Lady?" She asked formally.

"None of that, sister." Roslin replied. "Come, meet your nephew."

"A boy?" Arya asked happily.

Roslin shifted the baby so that they could see his face, and Sansa melted as she saw the light tufts of brown hair, and the grey eyes staring up at her. "He's beautiful." She whispered.

"He sort of looks like Father." Arya noted, holding a finger out to lightly stroke the baby's cheek.

Sansa agreed, and so did Cat from behind her. "It's the eyes." She said happily. "He has Ned's eyes."

"Robb and I decided on a name before he left." Roslin smiled, staring down at the baby. "Sansa, Arya, Lady Catelyn. Please meet Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell."

Sansa couldn't stop the tears then. "You named him after Bran?"

Roslin smiled, and looked towards Catelyn. "Robb knew it was a Stark name, and after what happened to Winterfell we felt we needed to honour his sacrifice."

Cat couldn't speak, as tears filled her eyes too. Arya stood and held her hand, as Sansa just turned to Roslin. "Thank you." She whispered emotionally.

Roslin shifted herself upright and went to hand baby Brandon to Sansa. "Here, hold him. He should know his Aunt." Sansa accepted the baby, and with a bit of help from Roslin she held her nephew correctly, staring down at him in complete awe.

* * *

The news from the North was met with mixed reactions in the Small Council chamber. Some were happy that the Northerners had an heir, but Durran was sat thinking that someday in the future his daughter would travel Northwards and marry this baby Brandon Stark. He could sense that next to him, Dany was feeling the same.

"Write to Lady Roslin wishing her congratulations on the healthy birth." Stannis told Pycelle. "We shall have to let Lord Stark know as soon as he arrives."

"Lord Hand." Pycelle nodded, accepting the task. "Lord Dayne has sent a raven." He told the King, reaching into his robes and handing it to Durran, who read the small note and had half a grimace on his face.

"It is done, Sunspear burns." He told the council. Dany had a smile on her face, but most of the others looked uncomfortable.

"We did what had to be done, Your Grace." Tarly said. "Dorne will feel this for a dozen generations and will know not to tussle with the Stag."

Durran nodded. "That's enough wildfire though, I want it all destroyed safely and the pyromancers gone. I will not liken myself to Aerys any more than I already have done."

"I shall see to it." Ser Morton Waynwood nodded, the Valeman having been appointed the new Master of Laws now that Daven was preparing to head back to Casterly Rock with Tommen.

"There is also news from Braavos, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell told him, thankfully changing the subject. "The Iron Bank has called one tenth of the crown's debts."

"How much is that?" Durran asked.

"Around 300,000 stags, Your Grace." Tyrell replied, reading from his papers.

Durran breathed out in annoyance. "Damn my Father…" He whispered.

"What can we afford to pay back, Lord Tyrell?" Stannis asked.

"With Winter well on its way and the rebuilding of the section of the fleet that burnt in the Blackwater as well as the ongoing war efforts in Dorne, I'd say around two thirds of the outstanding sum." Mace Tyrell replied.

Durran shook his head. "We need to pay them back in its entirety, the Iron Bank is not an enemy I would like to make."

"How can we do that?" Dany asked.

"House Tyrell could front the remainder." Tyrell responded.

"We are already over 500,000 gold coins in debt to your House, Lord Tyrell." Stannis reminded him. "No, that is not something we can do."

"Can we negotiate new terms?" Dany asked.

Stannis thought for a moment. "It's not impossible… we would have to go there personally however, give them the reasons why we cannot pay in full, but show them that we shall soon be able too."

Durran nodded. "I would go but I'm the one Lord Stark is coming to see, I cannot be gone for a month or so."

"I'll go with Lord Tyrell." Dany replied. Durran looked at her questioningly, and she turned to him. "Lord Tyrell is Master of Coin, he has to go, but as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms it will show the Iron Bank that we are taking this extremely seriously."

"And use the threat of the Dragons to ensure they see clearly." Lord Tarly replied gruffly. "I like it."

Durran shook his head. "We won't threaten the Iron Bank, but take Rhaellar and have her fly around the bank, we don't need to say anything if they see her for themselves."

The rest of the room agreed. "I'll have a ship prepared for you at once, Your Grace. We should depart as soon as possible."

"Give me a couple of days, Lord Hand." Dany told him. "Is that agreeable to you, Lord Tyrell?"

Mace Tyrell nodded ferociously. "It would be my honour to accompany Her Grace to Braavos."

Durran stood. "Then make your preparations My Lord. We can reconvene again tomorrow." The rest of the council bowed and left too, leaving Dany alone with her husband. "Are you sure about this?" He asked.

"Yes, you're far too busy here in the Capital and I'm more diplomatic than Stannis would be, anyone else would likely be seen as an insult." Dany shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Durran nodded, and brought her in for a hug. "Take Ser Perwyn and Ser Podrick with you, so I know you'll be safe."

Dany chuckled. "You worry too much, I'll be fine Durran."

The King wasn't deterred however, and kissed her softly before saying. "Your safety is of paramount importance My Queen, I will not risk it in the city of assassins."

Dany just shook her head with a smile and began walking back into the Throne Room. "I'm the Mother of Dragons, Durran." She called out, not looking at him. "If anything, the Braavosi should be worried about me."

* * *

Jon was sat at his desk with a map of the North in front of him. Lord Umber was the other side of the desk, not happy at the conversation they were having about the relocation of the Wildlings.

"Lord Umber, please understand." Jon was pleading. "The Gift is the only place big enough and with enough resources to house the Free Folk in their entirety."

"They've raided my lands for centuries!" The Umber Lord bellowed. "Now you want to house the fuckers 100,000 strong just a few miles away from my borders?"

Maester Aemon was also sat in with them. "The acceptance of boundary and law is the single main requirement of moving South, Lord Umber."

"They won't fucking listen!" Umber bellowed. "My own cousin was carried off in a raid, the fuckers will live as they always have and it will be the people of the North that suffer!"

"Have some respect for Maester Aemon, My Lord." Jon said sternly. "And listen to the proposal. Those furthest South in the New Gift will only be the elders, women and children that won't be able to fight against the coming storm aided by a few warriors, not enough for a raiding party. The Warriors will be housed in the abandoned castles along the Wall, and then in the villages that make up the Northern half of the Gift. You won't find a true fighting force until you get 25 leagues North of Umber land."

The Greatjon wasn't happy. "None of you know… when those fuckers want something they'll rape and pillage until they get it. When we win this bastard war what then? It will be our people that suffer, mark my words." At that he threw his chair back and stormed out of Jon's chambers.

"He is an angry man." Maester Aemon noted, as Jon went to correct the chair. "But a loyal one. He is unhappy because he can't do anything to change it, and he is too loyal to your family to be willing to try."

Jon just sighed, and fell back into his seat. "It's not just him, every decision I make to try and save people's lives will be met with ridicule and disgust."

Maester Aemon had a knowing smile. "Command is a role that only the few find themselves natural to from the start. My own brother, dear Egg, he wasn't a willing commander when he came to the Iron Throne. He was 33 and still a child at heart. I told him before I came to Castle Black the same words I shall tell you now, Jon Snow. Kill the boy inside of you. Winter is almost upon us and he is no longer needed. Kill the boy, and let the man be born. You and you alone know what needs to be done, so do it."

Jon took in those words. "King Aegon… what did he do when he heard those words?"

Maester Aemon leant back in nostalgia, his face stoic. "He sentenced the Hand of the King to the Wall for the murder of his own enemy."

Jon nodded, his thoughts clearing on his own predicament. "I can't appease anyone, can I? I have to do what needs to be done no matter what the men will think."

Maester Aemon shook his head. "Appeasement is only to delay a problem, one that will come at you harder and with greater consequence. It is not a stance to take lightly."

Jon nodded. "Thank you, Maester."

"I am here to serve you, Lord Commander." Aemon bowed his head.

Jon was grateful, and helped the man back to his chambers. He made sure the Maester was comfortable and sleeping before heading North of the Wall to Mance Rayder's camp, not realising that the old Maester would never wake up.

* * *

The atmosphere in the King's chambers was tense. Durran was against the wall, as Myrcella used her trebuchet to take Durran's dragon out of the Cyvasse game. The Princess grinned wildly as she took the piece off the board.

"I hate this game." Durran sulked jovially.

Myrcella smiled overly sweetly at him. "You're just not very good is all, your board is set up perfectly for me."

Durran shook his head anyway as he moved another piece. "This is nonsense, I'm the King of Westeros I should just win automatically." He sighed.

Tommen was sat down on the bed reading a book on Lann the Clever, but he poked his head over the tome and exclaimed. "Any man that says, 'I am the King' is no true King! That's what Ser Daven said."

Durran nodded. "That's what our Grandfather would have said."

Myrcella just smiled, as she moved to take the king piece and end the game. "You're a decent King Durran, you're allowed to have some flaws though, and Cyvasse is one of them."

Durran stared in disbelief at the board. "How… what? You're far too smart for your own good."

Myrcella just grinned, and got to her feet and curtseyed, before heading over to Tommen. "Tommen you've read that book three times already, you're leaving tomorrow come and play with us!"

The Lannister Lord groaned, before being dragged over to the table and being placed in Durran's seat. "I don't like this game." He moaned. "Can't I go and spar instead?"

Durran laughed. "We could talk about the many Westerland Ladies that you could marry…" He threatened, causing the 13-year-old to shiver in dread. "Just enjoy tonight, you're leaving tomorrow and this may be one of the last times we can all relax like this, soon you'll take up the mantle of Warden of the West and Myrcella will be the Lady of Dorne."

Tommen nodded, looking sad. "We'll all be so far away."

Durran nodded, and gathered both of his younger siblings in a hug. "No matter what happens now, both of you know that I'm only a raven away. If either of you need me, I'll be there."

Myrcella shook her head, but cuddled deeper into Durran's torso. "You're the King, you can't always just leave your duties."

Durran kissed them both on the top of the head. "For you two, I would do just that."


	32. Tales of Snarks, Grumpkins and Others

Durran liked to think that he remained calm most of the time, but his temperament was being tested more and more with the emergence of the sparrows. The Sept of Baelor had almost become a verbal sparring ground between those loyal to the High Sparrow and those still faithful to the High Septon, but that number was dwindling day by day.

Things had gotten to a breaking point the day before however, as the Sparrows took it upon themselves to hang two men they convicted of being homosexual from the base of the statue of Baelor the Blessed, and Durran was furious. He was sat on the Iron Throne in the newly redecorated Throne Room, watching as the light shone on the many Baratheon banners hanging from the columns around the room as Ser Jaime and Ser Balon had brought the High Sparrow into the Red Keep, and the Kingsguard threw him on the floor in front of the throne.

Durran stared down at him, a look of fury etched on his face. "High Sparrow, the last time I spoke to you I warned you of your fanatics taking the law into their own hands. We gave you food, we gave you clothing to help the poor. We offered you aid and you took that, yet still I'm hearing and seeing the results of your justice being handed out to my subjects. Hanging two men at the feet of Baelor the Blesses is a crime I cannot ignore."

The High Sparrow didn't show any emotion. "The will of the Gods is not there for a single person to decide, Your Grace. I am but a humble preacher, those that name themselves sparrows do not bow to my command, they are free to forge their own paths."

"Do you think me a fool?" Durran asked, standing and walking down the few steps to stand in front of the High Sparrow. "We know you inspire those to take their own actions, and we know that you are angling for a return of the Faith Militant. We know that the hangmen yesterday were tasked to round up sinners and hang them publicly by your orders, so don't test me." He finished with a growl. "Walk with me." He said, louder and standing up straight as he did so, walking out of the Throne Room knowing that Ser Barristan, Ser Jaime and Ser Balon were following closely with the High Sparrow.

He made his way to the Traitor's Walk, and stopped as he reached the location of the newest heads atop the Red Keep walls. He pointed up to the High Sparrow, who briefly looked concerned before masking his emotions once more. "These nine men were all found guilty of the murder of the men hung by Baelor. I warned you that whatever justice you felt needed to be handed out will be met with the full force of the law, and now I am showing you."

"A fine display, Your Grace. Though I wonder what the people would think of you mounting the heads of faithful followers of the Seven…"

"Faithful?" Durran asked angrily. "They desecrated the Sept of Baelor to make a point! They murdered my people because of a supposed crime! This is your last chance, High Sparrow. Stick to preaching the Seven Pointed Star, and keep your followers in line. The next time I hear about any sparrow in a negative light, you will be arrested. Your cult will be disbanded forcefully, and the members will all be sent to the Wall."

The High Sparrow narrowed his eyes. "You would go to war with the Faith?"

Durran was an inch from the man's face. "It wouldn't be war, it would simply be pest control." He snarled. "Give him a week in the Black Cells and then release him. Hopefully he will learn his lesson." He ordered, and Ser Balon took the man away.

Durran sighed, clenching his fist to try and control his fury. Jaime noticed. "You're doing the right thing, Your Grace. Treating fanatics harshly is the only way to assert control over the situation."

Durran nodded, but wasn't overly sure. "I just hope I'm not bringing more trouble onto myself by being harsh."

* * *

The week passed quickly, and peace seemed to have come to the streets of King's Landing, which was ideal at a time of religious unrest when the ship bearing Robb Stark's colours turned into Blackwater Bay. Robb stood on deck just staring out at the Red Keep growing as they neared the city. He was soon joined by the King Beyond the Wall and Samwell Tarly.

"How many people do you reckon live there?" Robb asked.

Sam thought for a moment. "It's hard to say. What with the wars and Summer coming to an end, a fine estimate would be 800,000? Maybe more?"

"800,000 people…" Mance replied in awe.

"More people than there are in the North, no doubt." Robb shook his head. "All of them, squeezed into that."

"It used to be just fisherfolk in a tiny village, before Aegon landed here." Sam explained excitedly. "Then as the war raged on and Aegon took more of the Kingdom's, the village under the Aegonfort grew into a town, and then a city once the Conqueror decided to call it his capital. In 27 years it went from a small fishing village to the third largest city on the continent."

A foul smell hit them as they neared the city docks, and Mance Rayder held his arm up to cover his nose. "They clearly grew too quickly." He said unhappily.

Robb nodded, but didn't say a word as he reminisced about the last day he had seen his Father before coming to King's Landing. The Sept of Baelor could be seen in the distance, and his emotions threatened to boil over. He was distracted however by a roar in the sky, as the black and green dragons flew overhead.

Gasping, he found himself struggling to breath as memories of dragon fire and searing pain filled his mind. He began sweating all over, yet had a feeling of cold flash through his body as he grasped the side of the boat for balance. He could sense someone behind him shouting instructions, as he let himself be dragged to the ground, sitting against the side of the ship. A wineskin was thrust into his hands as his breathing eased slightly, and his ears began to focus.

"… won't harm you Lord Stark, they're flying away, see?" Sam Tarly was saying. "Drink up, and I promise you that you will feel better."

"Dragons… I…" Rob couldn't speak properly. Sam understood, and just sat with him gently encouraging the Lord.

"It's ok, you don't need to speak Lord Stark." Sam said.

"What's wrong with him?" Mance asked.

Sam stood back up. "When he battled in the South he came up against the dragons, the scars on his face are from them."

Mance looked back up in alarm. "You survived, Stark. Be grateful and remember that. Not even the dragons could kill you."

It didn't help Robb, but he felt himself calming down as the boat carried on sailing. He managed to get to his feet again, and stared at the concerned Stark soldiers, some of which looked equally as terrified at the sight of the dragons. "I'm alright, I'm alright." He reassured them. Turning back to the docks as the ship began to pull in, Robb kept his eyes firmly towards the ground, as he recovered from whatever had just happened to him.

They were soon docked, and Robb strapped Ice to his back before leading Mance, Sam and his guard off of the ship. Jaime Lannister was there to greet them.

"Lord Stark!" The Lannister exclaimed. "Welcome to King's Landing."

Robb shook Jaime's hand firmly. "Ser Jaime." He responded.

"The King apologises that he couldn't greet you, but the Small Council is in session. I shall take you up to the Red Keep to see him now however."

Robb nodded, and followed Jaime and the few Gold Cloaks with him into the city. They swiftly made their way up Aegon's Hill, and into the Red Keep.

Robb could sense that Mance was in awe as they walked through the Red Keep and into the Throne Room. The King Beyond the Wall stared around at the room. "You Southerners love your pomp don't you." He noted, walking up to one of the Baratheon banners. "Never thought I'd see one of these."

Robb just stared at the Iron Throne. "Is that it?" He asked. "I thought it would be bigger. We all hear the stories of the thousand blades of the Conqueror even in the North."

Sam stood next to him as Jaime went to tell the Council that they were there. "A thousand blades would have been too unmanageable and look ridiculous, I read when I was very young that Aegon only used the blades of the Lords that he made surrender to make the Iron Throne more presentable."

Mance had caught up to them by that point and was staring at the Throne too. "That's what you all fight over?" He scoffed.

"It seems strange thinking about how many people have died in 300 years for this." Robb agreed. The doors reopened, and Ser Jaime came back towards them.

"His Grace is ready for you." He told them, and Robb walked onwards, watching the eyes of seven men staring intently towards him.

* * *

Durran sat watching the three newcomers. Robb Stark looked as grim as ever, his face half scarred still but his blue eyes staring back with determination. To his left was a man of the Night's Watch, a rather fat man who was looking towards Lord Randyll with sheer terror in his eyes. To Robb's right was an elder man dressed in the furs of badly stitched together animals.

"Lord Stark. I must admit I was surprised to receive a raven telling me you were on your way." Durran began.

Robb didn't blink. "The news we bring… is better told in person." He replied grimly.

"You're still fat." Randyll Tarly said gruffly from Stannis' right hand side. "I thought the Watch might make a man of you."

"You know each other?" Durran asked.

"This is Samwell Tarly, Your Grace." Robb replied.

Durran looked at Randyll. "Your eldest?"

Randyll just stared at Sam in disgust. "He volunteered for the Wall."

Robb's face contorted in anger. "In fear of death, Lord Randyll. You'd do well to remember the circumstances."

Randyll snorted a laugh. "Whatever the craven has told you…"

"This man? He's no craven." The third man, Mance Rayder, looked amused. He killed a Thenn."

"And a White Walker." Robb replied coolly. "Samwell Tarly is one of the finest men on the Wall. Your threats to his life, Lord Randyll, may have just saved the world."

Pycelle sat upright. "White Walkers? What fairy-tale nonsense…"

"It's no nonsense, Grandpa." Mance Rayder said, his eyes widening in what looked to Durran to be fear.

"The rudeness! I am the Grand Maester!" Pycelle spluttered.

"And you're old enough to be my Great-Grandfather. Keep quiet, Pycelle." Durran replied, before turning to Robb again. "White Walkers are myths, Lord Stark. Your injury isn't playing with your mind, is it? I do hope you're not bringing us tales of Snarks and Grumpkins too."

Robb shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "You've not been to the Wall, Your Grace. You've not seen the gathered army of Free Folk. They're 100,000 strong, and all they want is to flee Southwards. Why would an army of 100,000 want to flee and hide behind the Wall?"

Durran didn't have an answer. Stannis to his right spoke up. "Have you any proof of these claims? Forgive us, but we can't just believe in tales from thousands of years ago."

"I wouldn't be here if the threat wasn't serious." Mance said, calmly. "I don't suppose you know how difficult it is to unite the Thenns and the Ice River Clans, the Hornfoots and the Giants. They're tough bastards, tougher than most I've seen come from South of the Wall. When I first started to unite the clans, they were all afraid of what was coming for them. I started just wanting to do what my ancestors couldn't, defeat the Night's Watch and get through the Wall, but when we started looking for the horn to bring the Wall down, we opened up graves. Hundreds and hundreds of graves, and one day as we did that, those that had died thousands of years before got up and started attacking us."

Durran felt chilled. "Impossible…" He whispered.

"I knew then what was coming, I knew all the stories and I was scared. There are over 100,000 people North of the Wall, and as many gravesites as you can think of. If they can bring the dead back and we're stuck that side of the Wall then all that will bring you is more foes to burn when they come."

Durran and the rest of the council were speechless. Robb noticed, and stepped forwards. "Our plan is to relocate the Free Folk to the Gift. There's 50 leagues of land between the Wall and the North, if we can settle them there then they can supply men to the Watch, they can farm lands that have been unused for a century, and they can join us when the time comes."

Stannis shook his head. "Do Wildlings even know how to farm? How to tend the lands?"

Mance nodded. "Few clans do it's true, but enough. All I want is peace between the living."

"How do we know you've not just duped the Northmen, how do we know this isn't some ploy to come South and kill us all."

"Because I've seen them!" Sam snapped, before calming himself down. "At the Fist of the First Men, I saw the Army of the Dead and the White Walkers in their full strength. Thousands of dead men with no other purpose than to add to their army."

"Your Grace, are we to believe a usurper and a craven?" Randyll complained. Durran just held his arms up to silence him.

"Your son, Lord Tarly, is no craven." Robb repeated. "I fought beside him at Castle Black. I watched as he held his friend dying in his arms and still fought on, killing a Thenn, killing more of the Free Folk that wanted to slaughter us all. You may not think it because he reads and he's cleverer than us all, but this man is one of the bravest I know and the first man in 8,000 years to kill a Walker."

Randyll scoffed again, and Sam just looked defiant. "It wanted to take Gilly's son." He said quietly. "There's a man, he sacrifices his sons to the Walkers and marries his daughters. We escaped from him and a Walker came after us. He shattered my sword into a thousand pieces and all I was left with was this." He said, bringing out a black dagger and placing it on the table in front of Durran. "I stabbed it, and he shattered into tiny pieces of ice. This kills Walkers."

Stannis reached for the blade and inspected it. "Is this obsidian?" He asked.

"Yes." Sam nodded.

Stannis leant back informally. "When I was on Dragonstone during the war, there was a mountain of this stuff." He noted.

Sam looked at the Hand of the King in surprise. "If there is a mountain of it… then we can mine it. Distribute weapons to the Houses of the North and the Wall."

"Presuming of course, you are all telling the truth." Varys added.

Robb looked at him fiercely. "You still think us liars, spider?"

Stannis turned to Durran. "Perhaps we can continue this another time, Your Grace. I fear that there is no way we can all come to an agreement today."

Durran nodded and stood up. "Lord Stannis is right. I'll have the three of you shown to suitable rooms and we can discuss further at dinner tonight in my chambers."

Robb and Sam both bowed their heads, as Mance nodded firmly. They were all escorted out, followed soon after by the majority of the Council and Durran sat back down, breathing out heavily.

"Do you believe them?" Stannis asked.

"Do you?" Durran responded.

"I don't want to. I don't see how it's possible." Stannis admitted. "But the looks of their eyes. There was true fear in them. This isn't something we can dismiss out of hand."

Durran agreed. "I'll talk further with them tonight, but I want you to start preparing to head to the Wall as soon as Dany is back. I need answers and I trust nobody more than I do you."

* * *

As dinner was served that night, Durran looked on in amusement as Mance Rayder marvelled at the amount on offer. Stannis looked on sternly as always, remaining calculating.

"This spread could feed the entire Watch for a week." Sam noted, happily tucking into a rabbit leg.

Durran felt slightly bad. "We'll see what we can do in terms of supplying the Watch more. More men, steel and food."

"And coin, if you can." Sam added. "We aren't the richest, and this way we can trade with Braavos and Pentos too rather than relying on Your Grace."

Durran looked at Stannis, who shook his head slightly. "We shall discuss this another time." He told Sam. "For now though, if what you tell me is true, we must focus on the Gift. What plans have you got?"

Robb swallowed his mouthful and replied. "Jon is going to start the relocation as soon as possible with the few ships at Eastwatch, and all the ships House Manderly own are being directed to Eastwatch, but we need around two dozen more to be able to bring the whole lot around. We'll dock in at Eastwatch again and move them Southwards to the abandoned villages and farms while letting those still outside Castle Black through the gates once the first load of Free Folk are settled."

Durran nodded, and Stannis turned towards Mance Rayder. "And for a government? How will you get your people to obey the laws of the Seven Kingdom's?"

Mance smiled. "We won't be kneeling if that's what you mean. We'll stick to our lands and work with the crows. Your peace will be kept."

"It better." Robb noted. "I'll be dealing with you otherwise."

Chuckles came from the three non-Baratheon's, but Durran wasn't too happy at that. "You won't bend the knee yet expect to live in my Kingdoms?"

Mance dropped his cutlery. "We do not kneel." He made clear.

"The Free Folk follow strength. If he kneels he spits in the faces of his ancestors and is made to look weak in his people's eyes." Robb explained. "It's not ideal, but then neither is the Army of the Dead. If trouble arises I will deal with it, Your Grace."

Durran nodded. "Very well, their behaviour is to be watched by you Lord Stark." Durran remembered something, and jumped to his feet. He went to his desk and brought out a raven message. "Here, from Winterfell."

Robb took the parchment and read it, his eyes beaming at the words. "I… I have a son…"

"Congratulations, Lord Stark." Durran grinned.

More congratulations came from his two companions, as the door opened slightly to reveal a servant holding Elaenor. "My apologies, Your Grace. She wouldn't stop asking for you."

The baby had begun calling for her parents a few days ago, and as Durran held his arms out for her, Elaenor happily squealed. "Dada!"

"Hello Princess." Durran grinned, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Jocelyn."

The servant curtseyed, and Durran brought Elaenor in to the room. "Forgive me, My Lords. It seems the Princess won't stop speaking now she realises she can."

Durran sat down and allowed Elaenor to sit on his lap as a servant cut some pork into tiny pieces, and the King started feeding his daughter slowly.

"I suppose I have all this to come." Robb grinned, the Stark Lord seeming stunned.

"It's a joy… occasionally." Durran chuckled. "Although in 15 years or so she'll be your problem."

Robb nodded. "Aye, the treaty. That'll apply to Brandon." He remembered. "Gods, he's only been here for a week or so and I'm already thinking of his wedding."

Stannis nodded. "We do these things for peace."

"Aye." Robb said. "Gods I was a fool, if I'd have known about the North…"

"You should have still come South." Durran waved off. "You should have bent the knee as soon as Joffrey died admittedly, but your reasons as I've said before I understand. If you hadn't have ridden then your bannermen would have likely strung you up."

Robb nodded. "I suppose, we've both learnt though. I'd never have imagined when you came to Winterfell all those years ago what form our paths would take."

Durran shook his head, before remembering something. "We still never sparred, did we?"

Robb thought for a moment before laughing slightly. "No, we didn't."

Durran grinned, before handing Elaenor a larger piece of bread to occupy herself with. "Do you have armour with you?"

Robb laughed more. "Aye, Baratheon. I do."

* * *

Hundreds of miles to the North, Jon Snow was sat in the mess hall waiting for quiet. The Watch had been split over Jon's treatment of Janos Slynt, but he stood by the decision. He needed to kill the boy, and no man could look to overrule Jon.

He nodded to Grenn on the table nearest to the Officers table, who picked up his mug and banged it three times on the table, and silence soon fell.

"Lord Stark has given me the nod to start to relocate those North of the Wall into the Gift." He began. "We start with those stranded at Hardhome, the women and children. Ships will sail from Eastwatch and White Harbour, but I need a dozen volunteers to come with me and oversee it."

Silence fell over the room as people digested what he was asking of them. He saw Olly scowling in the corner, but had to put that to one side. Thankfully, Grenn stood up, soon followed by Ed.

That led to enough people standing, and the next day Jon and the other 12 men were North of the Wall, with Ygritte there waiting for them.

"Jon Snow." She said. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

Jon shook his head. "No, but you were with Mance when we planned. If anyone can convince them I'm being truthful, it's you."

"Oh aye?" Ygritte grinned, smirking at him, causing Jon to blush slightly.

"Aye." Jon grinned back, kicking his horse into moving. "You're the most stubborn person I know."

He didn't see her reaction, but knew she was riding beside him as they followed the Wall along Eastwards. He did have to laugh when he heard Ed groan from behind him however. "Do they always flirt this much?"

"They don't ever stop." Grenn said quietly back, causing Jon to smirk and look over at Ygritte. Her red hair being blown softly in the wind. Focusing on her, he steeled himself into his decision. He would save every person he could for her.


	33. Stormborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always thought that some of the magic that Melisandre can do is brushed aside and has been since the shadow baby. In that mindset, my Melisandre here is very, very different to the show one, and she has the potential to be extremely powerful.
> 
> Bold speech is High Valyrian.

The morning after he arrived in King's Landing, Robb woke early. The heat was barely tolerable even now for him, and he immediately had to guzzle some water to wet his throat. He stared outside towards the city of King's Landing, barely noticing a large group of people walking towards the castle. He turned back to his chambers and began to put on his full set of armour. Once he felt comfortable, he made his way with his guard down to the training yard. The Stark Lord was the first person there other than a man with brown hair, the Master-at-Arms, Ser Aron Santagar. The Dornishman was polishing his shield, showing the colours of his house.

"Lord Stark." The man said unemotionally. "I was told to expect you here today."

Robb bowed his head slightly. "Ser Aron. Is the King not here yet?"

The knight replied. "His Grace will be resting, Lord Stark."

Robb nodded, swallowing his annoyance at the retort. "Very well. Have you any tips?"

The Dornishman looked Robb up and down. "No." He replied coolly and walked off into the armoury.

Robb felt insulted at the brash nature of the Dornishman, but a voice from behind him made him go cold. "Forgive Ser Aron. He has a mistrust of Northerners due to the end of the Rebellion."

Robb forced himself to bow to the woman. "Queen Mother." He said, emphasising her title. "I am surprised to see you in the tiltyard."

Cersei kept her hands in her sleeves. "I came to talk with you." She admitted. "This… sport. It seems unnecessary for the King to dirty himself when much more important issues are at hand."

Robb didn't react. "His Grace suggested the spar as we couldn't back in Winterfell due to his injury. It would be unwise to refuse him."

Cersei didn't look like she agreed. "I don't know why after all you have done, but my son trusts you and considers you a friend."

Robb clenched his teeth together before responding, his talks with Sansa happily paying off on how to act around King's Landing. "His Grace has understood my reasons for my actions and has been gracious in his mercy."

Cersei took a step closer, staring at the burn scars on Robb's face. "Yes, it seems you've paid the price for your little rebellion." She noted. "Although, if you harm the King today, these scars will pale in comparison."

Robb's face fell into a scowl as he stared down at the Lannister woman. "What will you do,  _Your Grace_? Throw me into the Black Cells as you did my Father? Or will you go one step beyond what you did to him and actually have me executed?"

Cersei was about to retort when a whole host of footsteps could be heard from the direction of the Red Keep. Robb looked up to see the King surrounded by his Kingsguard approaching.

"Mother!" Durran exclaimed. "A surprise to see you here."

Cersei smiled sweetly, and Robb almost vomited at the action. "I came for a word with Lord Stark before your bout, Your Grace."

Durran shook his head. "I'm sure that's all it was." He rolled his eyes. "Ser Balon, please escort my Mother back to her chambers." Cersei looked like she was about to argue, but decided against it, following Ser Balon Swann away from the small arena. Durran turned to Robb apologetically. "I'm sorry about her, she believes me stupid for trusting anybody other than a Lannister."

"She cares about you." Robb said.

Durran laughed. "In her own way I suppose yes. Before Joffrey however she only had room in her heart for him." He stepped forwards and shook Robb's hand. "I must admit, I've been looking forward to this ever since Winterfell."

Robb smiled quickly. "If you hadn't have broken your arm, we would have sparred back then."

Durran smiled, as a squire tightened the black steel plate covering his shoulders and chest that sat atop his yellow leathers. "It was a large deer." He defended himself. He was given his helmet next, and threw it at Robb, who just about caught it. "Those were its antlers."

They were about triple the size of the actual helmet, and Robb was impressed. He handed the helmet back to Durran who placed it on his head, letting the squire strap it. Once that was done Durran was handed a longsword, and Robb noticed the stag's head pommel with the yellow eyes seemingly glaring at him. He was handed a Stark shield by one of his Northmen and withdrew his sword.

"I'm not used to fighting with a one-handed weapon, so this will be good training for us both. A good distraction from the rabble outside also." Durran said, unsheathing the Valyrian Steel.

Robb nodded, admiring the blade. "Where did you get that?"

"Fury?" Durran asked, swinging the blade. "With House Corbray going extinct they had no further need of Lady Forlorn. Queen Daenerys wisely had it remade into Fury." He held his left arm out then, and a shield bearing his sigil was strapped to his arm too.

"A fine blade." Robb admitted. "And Valyrian Steel, too. That will be useful in the wars to come, a blade that never dulls."

Durran nodded, and he gestured for Ser Aron to come back in. The Dornish knight checked the pairs armour and weapons, being unnecessarily rough with Robb, before standing between them.

"We duel until a yield." The Dornishman said. "You are using live steel also, so temper your attacks. I don't want any fatal blows. Do you both understand?" Durran and Robb both nodded, and Ser Aron stepped back. "Begin."

Robb stared on as the huge figure of Durran came walking towards him. With a roar, the Baratheon struck downwards, and Robb raised his shield to block the strike before hacking at Durran's left hand side, only to be blocked by the King's own shield. Taking a step back, Robb quickly went for another attack, being parried by Fury twice in quick succession before Robb had to use his shield once more to block the incoming blow. Robb was quicker than his King, and he used that as an advantage, swinging his sword in all directions to try and find an opening. Durran matched him on the defensive however, his shield and sword stopping any of Robb's attacks from hitting his person.

His breakthrough came when Durran's inexperience with sword and shield started telling. The King lunged, his footwork just off, and Robb easily parried the blow. Durran's shield was too low, and Robb whacked Durran's helmet with the flat of his sword. Harmless enough, but it would give the King a headache.

"Keep your shield up, Your Grace." Robb exclaimed. "Or that won't be the only time I ring your head like a bell."

Durran nodded, ducking behind the large shield as they resumed the spar. The King lashed out with his shield, causing Robb to move backwards, blocking the blow with his own circular shield before swords clashed once more. Durran was using more power behind his swings, and Robb was having to be extra careful of how he parried. Finally, an opportunity came where Durran got inside Robb's defences, parrying Robb's shield away and kicking out at the Stark's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Grinning, he got back to his feet.

"Ouch." He said, causing the Baratheon to chuckle too just before Robb came at him fiercely. The Stark swinging his sword from all directions in quick succession, using his speed to back Durran up. He feigned right, and then uppercut from the left, pushing Durran to parry with Fury, but the King's sword was pushed up, leaving Robb a gap to elbow the King in the midriff, before holding his sword to Durran's neck.

The Baratheon stopped in bewilderment for a moment, before his grin returned and he lowered his arms. "I yield, you fucker I yield."

Robb lowered his sword too, as the Kingsguard and Robb's own men applauded the bout. Ser Barristan came and took the Valyrian sword from his liege. "Very good, Your Grace. Although you need to practice on your footwork and skill a bit. You cannot solely win with power with such a weapon."

"Then you can teach me all I still need to learn, Ser." Durran said, loosening his shield and handing it off to the squire before walking over to Robb. "Well, Stark. I thoroughly enjoyed that."

Robb smiled, as the two gripped forearms. "You did well, Your Grace. With some refinement and practice you shall be formidable."

Durran waved his hand in the air. "Piss on that. Unless we're in a formal setting you call me by the name my Father gave me." Robb bowed his head in agreement as Durran flung his arm around his shoulders. "Now come, let us eat before the boredom of a Council meeting takes us by the balls!"

* * *

As the swords were clashing in King's Landing the winds were howling and the rain was lashing down on Storm's End. Stefan's Mother had said it was the worst storm that she could remember, but that didn't stop him from making his way to the roof of the Drum Tower to stand in the storm. He felt an odd sense of peace here that he knew he wouldn't get inside the castle as his wife gave birth.

He didn't know how long he stood there, it could have been hours, or it could have been days, but the storm raged on. His only distraction came from behind him in the voice of his 12-year-old brother.

"Are you mad?" The boy screamed over the howling winds.

Stefan grinned, and gestured for his brother to join him. "We have the blood of Elenei in us, Brother. The storm won't harm us!" He shouted back towards the door back into the tower. Davos looked slightly scared but came outside anyway to be assaulted by the rain and wind. He got to Stefan and clung to him. "You know the story of how Storm's End was built! How the Children of the Forest gave Durran Godsgrief aid in constructing the castle! There is ancient magic in these walls and the storm shall not harm us." Davos eased up a bit, and Stefan could see that he relaxed as he stared out, watching the lightning dance across the sky over Shipbreaker Bay. "How is Lady Margaery?" Stefan asked.

"Mother says it shan't be long. That's why I came to get you!" Davos shouted over the wind. Stefan nodded, taking one look out to sea and relishing in the sound of the thunder, before he led his brother inside once more, locking the door behind him. They made their way down towards Margaery's personal rooms. "Have you heard from Shireen?" Davos asked as they walked down the stone steps together.

Stefan nodded. "We received a raven yesterday. She's settled in nicely. Her and Beth Rogers apparently love to go swimming in the Trident just by the castle."

Davos scrunched his nose up. "I never liked her. She pulled my hair."

Stefan laughed, ruffling his brother's hair with his arm. "You'll appreciate girls when you're a bit older I'm sure Davos."

"I won't." Davos replied grumpily, causing Stefan to laugh again.

"I'm afraid you will. I've sent a raven to Lord Ralph Buckler, his daughter Alys is a few months older than you and free for a betrothal." Stefan told him.

Davos looked annoyed, before his face melted into one of thought. "Is she pretty?"

Stefan grinned. "I haven't seen her since before we marched on Wendwater Brother, but she looked like she could be comely back then, sure."

Davos looked slightly happier, as a man dressed in Baratheon leathers came running up towards them. "Lord Stefan!" He cried.

"What is it Robert?" Stefan asked the guard named after his Uncle.

"I've been sent by Lady Baratheon. Lady Margaery has given birth, My Lord."

Stefan thanked the guard and rushed down to his wife's rooms. Two Tyrell guards were on the door and immediately let the two Baratheon's inside, where Margaery was lying in her bed, smiling peacefully. Joy Baratheon was stood at her side, and the old Maester Cressen and his aide were folding some blankets.

"My boy." Joy smiled happily, a small bundle in her arms. "Come, come and meet your son."

Stefan stopped in his tracks, before slowly walking around the bed towards his Mother. He stared at the bundle in her arms, a grin forming on his face. "How are they?" He asked.

"We are well." Margaery replied, smiling.

"I'm happy with the health of both mother and child, My Lord." Cressen said.

Joy helped Stefan get his arms in the right place before passing him the baby. Stefan shifted slightly to make it more comfortable for them both. A loud crack of thunder could be heard, and Stefan was preparing for a loud wail from the baby, but he just gurgled, smiling slightly. "A true Baratheon." Stefan grinned.

"He needs a name." Joy told him.

"Ormund! Boremund!" Davos cried from the doorway. Stefan scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

"No, none of them fit him." He replied. He looked towards Margaery and was pleased to see she agreed. "Lyonel?"

The smile on her face made his mind up. "Lyonel Baratheon." She whispered. "Yes, I like that."

Stefan smiled, staring down at his son once more, staring into the sharp blue eyes of the baby boy. "Welcome to Storm's End, Lyonel."

* * *

Over the next week, Robb Stark was allowed into Small Council meetings while the other two visitors from the North were only involved when talking about the North. There were still those who doubted the tales of White Walkers and wights, to the obvious dissatisfaction of Robb and Sam. Randyll Tarly was the main opponent.

That changed when a raven from Castle Black arrived. The young Maester Hothar, the man in charge of the ravens, entered the room to hand Durran the message, and the words chilled him to his core.

"What is it?" Stannis asked.

"We need to start moving the Wildlings by the Wall Southwards immediately." Durran said. He handed Stannis the letter.

"Travelled to Hardhome to relocate the women, children and elderly. Ambushed by the Night King himself…" Stannis trailed off.

Mance's face fell. "How many dead?" He asked stoically.

"They only saved 5,000 of the women and children." Durran replied. "The elders helped fight. Jon lost 3 brothers aiding the escape."

Robb swore, and Sam just looked sad. "And now their watch has ended." He whispered.

"That's almost 40,000 of my people dead." Mance replied, angrily. "What are we going to do about it?"

Randyll Tarly leant forwards. "Calm your tone, Wildling."

"This isn't the time!" Robb shouted. "Jon survived?"

Durran nodded. "He penned the letter. He's letting the Wildling's through the Wall as we speak."

Mance was happier, but not by much. "Good. Though I must get back to my people."

Stannis agreed. "Ser Davos will be back in the Capital shortly. He will take us and the host of Dornish prisoners Northwards." He told Mance Rayder and Robb. "Master Tarly, may I recommend heading to Oldtown as soon as you can. Whatever information is there, we will need."

"There is one more thing Jon mentioned." Durran told them all. "Valyrian Steel can kill White Walkers."

The room fell silent. "How many are left in Westeros?" Morton Waynwood asked.

"We have three wielders in this room." Stannis replied. "Heartsbane of House Tarly, Fury of House Baratheon and Ice of House Stark."

"There are two in the Iron Islands." Robb said. "Greyjoy told me about them when I was younger. House Harlaw and House Drumm."

"And Dany has Blackfyre." Durran nodded. "Add that to Longclaw at the Wall and we have 5 in our possession."

"Perhaps not." Pycelle said, sitting upright. "During the storming of the Dragonpit, the ancient Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce was lost."

Durran had a thought. "It's a long shot, but if we find it… Ser Morton. Take as many gold cloaks as you can and scour the ruins. I want every inch of the place searched. If anything was to survive, a Valyrian Steel greatsword would."

Ser Morton nodded. Samwell Tarly looked thoughtful. "After the Battle of Tumbleton in the Dance of the Dragons Lord Ormund Hightower died and no mention of their House sword was made again. What if House Hightower has kept it hidden?"

Durran nodded. "I'll give you a letter for Lord Leyton. We need that sword now if they still have it."

"There was another rumour of Valyrian Steel in the Reach." Randyll Tarly said.

"House Roxton?" Sam asked. Randyll nodded, his anger at his son disappearing for the moment. "I thought that was a myth."

Randyll shook his head. "Orphan-Maker existed but was supposedly lost in the Second Battle of Tumbleton."

Durran had been writing the names of the swords down. "So, we have five, two are in the hands of the Ironborn and the rest are rumoured lost."

"It's not great." Ser Morton sighed.

"It's a start." Robb countered.

Durran nodded. "Send a raven to House Roxton, Pycelle. Make it clear that the wielder of Orphan-Maker if there is one is to report to King's Landing immediately."

Pycelle bowed his head. "At once Your Grace, but if I may…"

"What is it?" Stannis asked.

"I've never mentioned this before… because your Father, King Robert, would have been sent into a terrible rage." The old man said.

Durran realised it had to do with the Targaryen's. "What is it?" He repeated his Uncle's question.

"When Ser Brynden Rivers went missing at the Wall, Maester Aemon himself sent back his sword, Dark Sister. It was kept in the deepest vaults of the Red Keep until one day, Prince Rhaegar left King's Landing for the tourney of Harrenhal and took it against King Aerys' wishes." Pycelle explained.

"Rhaegar had Dark Sister?" Durran asked.

"Yes." Pycelle nodded. "But, when he returned to lead the army to the Trident, he didn't have the sword."

Durran was confused. "Then where is it?"

"The most logical guess." Pycelle said, looking nervously at Robb. "Is the place where he took Lyanna Stark."

Robb's face fell. "Dorne." He said coolly. "The Tower of Joy."

Durran leant on his arms feeling slightly defeated, before sitting up again. "Ned Stark tore that down." He recited from his lessons.

"The sword isn't in Winterfell." Robb said. "He would have told me."

"Would he?" Randyll asked. "You were a boy when he came South, and it was true how King Robert detested any mention of the Targaryen's, Lord Stark may have kept it hidden for that reason."

Robb shook his head, but his protest got slower. "I'll head Northwards, Your Grace. If Dark Sister was in the Tower with my Aunt, then there's only one man alive that will know what happened."

"None of this matters if we don't have men to fight on the Wall." Sam argued. "We have a few members of the Night's Watch, and we have the Wildlings."

"You shall have more men, Samwell Tarly." Durran promised. "I want another raven sent out to every House that has lands in my Kingdom. Any man that volunteers for the Night's Watch, their family shall be rewarded. Any prisoner will be given the option of the Wall. I shall personally send 300 of my own men to aid the Wall until this is over, and I will send enough weapons, armour, food and gold for the Watch to arm and feed 2,000 men. This I swear to you on the Old Gods and the New. Westeros shall answer the call."

* * *

Durran's task of finding and preparing men to send to the Wall wasn't going well, as he was taken to the White Sword Tower by Ser Barristan. He was led to Ser Jaime's room, and screams could be heard from halfway down the corridor. Barging the door open, he was horrified at what he saw.

His Uncle's torso was stained red with blood from a wound near his shoulder. Durran noticed the blade on a side table, a small dagger that didn't look like it could kill anybody, a stained note was at its side.

"What happened?" Durran demanded to know.

"Ser Jaime was thrown in front of the Red Keep by those Sparrows." Ser Balon explained. "The knife was in his shoulder and the letter was pinned to him."

Jaime screamed again as the Maester tried to cauterise the wound with a hot blade, as Durran was handed the letter.

"Sinner. Sisterfucker. Sinner." He read aloud. "What is this?"

Ser Barristan shifted slightly in the corner of Durran's eye, as Jaime growled. "They ambushed me, Your Grace. I was searching for the barrels, as you commanded…" He began, looking around at the few Kingsguard and the young Maester in the room. Durran trusted them all.

"Go on, Ser Jaime. Nobody will tell." Durran nodded.

Jaime sighed, and continued. "I was looking through some of the passages and found hundreds of barrels of wildfire. I was shocked at the number and found the nearest way out. They were all under the Sept of Baelor."

"Wildfire?" Barristan asked, horrified.

"The Mad King's final plan, Ser." Durran said solemnly. "He was going to destroy the entire city if my Uncle hadn't have stopped him."

Barristan had to sit down, as his mind worked through the information. "That's why Rossart was Hand… but surely not? He wasn't that mad… yes he was." He sighed, defeated. "I should never have saved him at Duskendale." He growled.

"You did your duty." Durran told him. "The blame isn't yours."

Ser Barristan was grateful for that, as he stood back up and looked towards the injured Jaime. "All these years… I'm so sorry. I should never have judged you so cruelly."

Jaime grimaced as the Maester began sewing up the wound. "The blame isn't yours Lord Commander." He spat out.

Durran wanted to bring the conversation back to what had happened. "So you made your way to the surface."

Jaime nodded. "And after walking a way towards the castle I was set upon by those Sparrows. I was taken to some small room and the High Sparrow himself came and threw these… accusations, at me. Calling me sister fucker, and traitor, and Kingslayer. He said that I had fathered all my sister's children and that the entire city would know what I've done before stabbing that letter to me and marching me threw the growing crowd. That's when I was picked up."

Durran was furious. "These, accusations." He growled for the benefit of the people that didn't know the truth. "Have they spread?"

Balon Swann nodded. "The entire crowd are screaming at the gates trying to get in. We're holding them off as they have no true force, but the numbers were growing when I last checked."

Durran nodded quickly. "Very well. I've been lenient, I've been law abiding, but this is an attack on my own name and I cannot let this go."

"What are your orders, Your Grace?" Ser Barristan asked.

Durran turned to Ser Balon. "Go to the bell tower. Tell them to ring for an invasion to get the people back in their homes. Then grab Lord Tarly and head to the barracks. I want the entire city searched. I want every single FUCKING Sparrow either dead or in chains, and I want the High Sparrow alive!"

The Kingsguard knight bowed and fled from the room, rousing Ser Arys in the process. The Maester excused himself after giving instructions for Ser Jaime to rest, leaving Durran alone with his Uncle and Ser Barristan.

"How does he know?" Durran asked when he was sure he wouldn't be overheard.

Jaime grunted as he tried to sit up slightly. "Littlefinger… they raided his brothel and he had left evidence hidden, but not impossible to find."

Durran swore. "Even from the grave he's still fucking me over." He whispered to himself. "We'll deal with this. I'll have men posted throughout the tower for your protection."

Jaime shook his head. "I don't matter, I can still fight if needs be. Keep Cersei safe."

Durran shook his head. "You'll be well guarded, Uncle." He said commandingly, putting the matter to bed.

"As you will, Your Grace." Jaime said, grimacing as he moved. "I'll just be here then."

Durran and Ser Barristan left the room and walked with pace back towards the Red Keep. They stayed silent for the most part, but as they neared Cersei's rooms Ser Barristan spoke.

"Your Grace… these rumours…"

"When the High Sparrow is captured, he will be executed publicly." Durran interrupted. "I will have evidence that Viserys Targaryen slandered my Mother's good name, and that this is a plot manufactured by House Martell."

Ser Barristan looked uneasy. "Can't we just blame Littlefinger? It was his brothel…"

"We could." Durran sighed, turning around to face the elderly protector. "But this way we cut out a fair amount of the uneasiness that surrounds the Martell treatment. If the people think that this is a plot by the Dornish rebels, then it works in our favour more than blaming a man that's been dead for a year." The old knight didn't like it anymore, and Durran continued. "I understand it's not very honourable, but every so often I need to be more like my Grandfather than I'd like. This is the sort of story that he would tell to benefit the House."

Ser Barristan nodded, as the pair walked on again. "If you don't mind me saying, I still don't like the lies, Your Grace, but I understand the reasoning."

Durran smiled, as they reached the door to his Mother's chamber. "And your council is always welcomed Ser." He said, opening the door.

Inside he saw his Mother staring outside on her balcony listening to the bells ringing and Myrcella was sat down holding little Eleanor. They both turned to face Durran and Ser Barristan, Cersei's eyes widening as she saw he was in his leather armour.

"You're not going down there." Cersei said, trying to be commanding.

"No." Durran shook his head. "But your life has been threatened, so we are the last line of defence. I shouldn't worry though; the entire garrison is being called to root out these fanatics." Cersei nodded, as Durran stroked Elaenor's cheek briefly before joining his Mother on the balcony. He stared down and could just about make out the waves of Baratheon, Lannister and Tarly soldiers streaming out of the Red Keep and heading towards the city. "They know." He whispered to her.

Cersei looked confused. "Know about what?"

"The reason I declared against Joffrey." Durran said, hinting.

Cersei's eyes widened in recognition. "How." She spat.

"That's not important. But they attacked Jaime. He's fine, he's resting in his chamber." Durran said quickly, seeing Cersei looked worried. "But you can't see him until this has been dealt with. I will not stoke the fire that's already burning." He turned back to the room where Ser Barristan was by the door. "Ser Barristan. We are safe here for now. Can you go and find Varys for me?"

"The Spider?" Barristan asked.

"Yes." Durran said. "I need that evidence we spoke about."

* * *

Three days and plenty of spilled blood afterwards, the Dragonpit had yet again been turned into an arena for execution. Durran's forces had swept through the entire city, raiding houses that had been known to support the Sparrows, and thoroughly ensuring that as many Sparrows were arrested as possible. Fighting spilled to the streets, and hundreds of the Sparrows fell to the blades of the City Watch and Durran's own garrison. A couple of thousand had been captured, and a dozen bodies had been hung around the Dragonpit to make an example of, while the others were steadily being prepared to be transported to the Wall.

The High Sparrow himself was known throughout the city, and many of the citizens of King's Landing supported him and were outraged at the arrests, even when an attack on the Kingsguard was known, so the crowd in the Dragonpit was as large as it had been for Viserys, yet the mood was significantly different.

Sat on the dais with Stannis, Cersei and Myrcella, Durran waited until the man was brought towards the block. He looked fairly pathetic, his ragged robes even dirtier than usual, his hair messy and his bare feet caked in dried blood. Ser Ilyn placed him roughly behind the block, facing the peasant rabble. His mouth was bound, as Durran had decreed.

Myrcella squeezed his hand from his left-hand side, and Durran smiled briefly before standing, making himself visible to the entirety of the Dragonpit. Silence fell.

"Today is a difficult one." He called out. "As a firm follower in the Seven, the choice between the law and the faith here has not been easy. Do I forgive the many indiscretions of the group known as the Sparrows as the Seven-Pointed Star has taught me, do I welcome the High Sparrow back to us with open arms? Or do I uphold the law as the Seven have bid me to do, to give judgement where it is required." He pointed towards the High Sparrow. "This man, after being warned numerous times has continued to use his group take the law into his own hands. Murdering your brothers and sisters, mutilating the very meaning of law and defiling buildings because it displeases them."

A few in the crowd continued to shout for the High Sparrows freedom, but Durran didn't let up. "An assault upon the Kingsguard is an assault upon the King, but in such circumstances I could forgive it if the perpetrator confessed and repented. This man has not done the latter, but even then, with a promise of future good behaviour, I could forgive him. What I cannot forgive, is being the conduit of treason."

Varys came forwards at his cue and handed Durran a document. Raising his voice, Durran read from the parchment. "In the name of Viserys, of House Targaryen. I, Oberyn of House Martell do give permission for the plan to go ahead. Go into the city my friend, cause chaos for the Usurper's spawn and prime the city for the Rightful King."

The crowd were stunned silence, before calls of traitor came from a few, and a tomato or two hit the High Sparrow. Durran held his hand up for silence again. "This is but one of many correspondences with the traitors of House Martell proving beyond all doubt that we have been deceived. The Sparrow movement was nothing more than a plot of Viserys Targaryen's, that continued long after his death. For that, I ask you all. How can I forgive him?"

A few murmurs asking for his head were heard, and Durran continued. "He also, on the order of Viserys Targaryen spread the heinous lies that the Queen Mother herself committed treason, and that myself and my siblings are nothing but bastards. To that I laugh. The Gods themselves chose me to win the War of the Four Kings, and no man nor woman can deceive the Gods. I ask you all again. How can I forgive?"

As he had hoped, the crowd were larger in their calls this time, as the majority of them believed his words and were calling for the High Sparrow's head. Durran held his hand up one last time for silence, waiting for quiet to fall. "I agree, even if I wanted to I can't forgive the slander, and I certainly cannot forgive treason, and as decreed by the law that the Sparrows were so willing to break, the punishment for treason is death. Ser Ilyn!"

The roar of the crowd went up, as they cheered the decision. Durran sat back down in his seat and turned to Stannis. "They all wanted him saved a minute ago."

Stannis nodded grimly. "You were very convincing." He said unhappily.

Durran sat back. "I had to, if I had executed him without such a reason we'd have riots on our hands."

Stannis didn't reply, just stared forwards as the axe was raised, and lowered again with pace. Myrcella jumped at the sound of the axe meeting neck, and Durran just held her hand again. He didn't like what he had done, but in a choice between lying to the crowd over such a small matter or letting his family remain in danger, he knew he had made the right choice.

* * *

Durran didn't stay long at the Dragonpit after the execution, as he quickly made his way back to the Red Keep's own dock to see off Samwell Tarly and his Wildling girl down to Oldtown. He arrived as the fat Tarly hugged Robb.

"You send anything you find to Winterfell. I mean anything, whether it looks like it's mildly or incredibly important." Robb said.

"I will do, My Lord." Sam nodded, and Robb grinned, as Sam turned to Mance. "Don't destroy the Wall just yet."

Mance chuckled, and the two locked arms in a mark of respect. Randyll Tarly moved forwards then, clearly unhappy at being here. "I once forbade you to head to Oldtown." He said gruffly.

"I am a man of the Night's Watch." Sam said strongly, not looking at his Father. "I am no longer bound by your word, Lord Tarly."

Durran thought he saw the hint of a smile briefly appear on Randyll's lips, but it was so quick he wasn't sure. "Very well. Do your duty and find us something." The Tarly patriarch said.

Durran stepped forwards at that moment. "Good luck, Samwell." He said, shaking Sam's hand.

"Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you for all you are doing for the Watch." Sam said back.

Durran smiled. "Well, it's only me doing a duty that has been lacking for centuries by the King."

"I mean it." Sam said. "All the men, weapons and food… it's sorely needed."

"When this is all over, I want you to keep me updated on the matters of the Watch." Durran told Sam. "I shall not have it fall into the same level of disrepair as we find it in now."

Sam smiled happily, before he stepped onto the longboat that was taking him to his ship and sat down. His eyes widened however, and he stood up again. "Lord Stark!"

Robb walked closer. "What is it?"

"I'm so sorry, I forgot all about this… As I crossed back through the Wall I met your brother." Sam said shyly.

"Well, Jon is a member of the Night's Watch." Robb replied, not understanding where the joke was.

Sam shook his head. "Not Jon. Brandon."

Robb stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in surprise. "That's a cruel joke." He growled.

"I… I promise." Sam pleaded. "It's no joke. I met him, Hodor and two children of Lord Reed's at the Nightfort. I gave them Dragonglass to protect them… I tried to stop them going North I really did…"

Robb's hand went to cover his mouth. "You're lying."

Sam shook his head sadly. "Summer was there too."

Robb's hand went through his hair as he gasped. "He's alive…"

"He was." Sam said, stating the tense clearly. "But North of the Wall… it's dangerous."

"Did he mention Rickon?" Robb asked quickly. "Sam!"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "He said… he said that Rickon was heading for Last Hearth. That the Umber's would look after him."

Robb stood back to take it all in. "Thank you… thank you." He whispered.

Sam smiled. "I hope you find them." He sat back down and began rowing the boat out to sea, leaving Robb Stark alone with thoughts of his brothers' whereabouts swimming around in his head.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a room in one of the deepest parts of the Red Keep, the Red Woman Melisandre stared into the flames as she had done thousands of times before. As the fire crackled and danced, images became clearer in her head. Red hair on top of a wall made of Ice and a necklace shining black. The scene in the flames then shifted, as a vision that had been shown to the Red Priests and Priestesses for thousands of years played out in the fire. A man shoving his sword into his wife's heart, although this was different. The hair wasn't like Melisandre had seen before, as Nissa Nissa this time had dark hair, and Azor Ahai's was as pale as the moon, and it was snowing.

More images then flew through Melisandre's mind, images of herself covered in snow performing feats she had never seen before. How was this to be interpreted? What did R'hllor need her to do? An hour went by like seconds, and all she knew was that she was needed in the North. The how to get there was a different challenge however, and she while she knew she had some power in her blood, she needed more for the tasks at hand.

Sighing, she got herself to her feet and put on one of her crimson robes, before leaving her chambers and walking over to the Black Cells. She snuck into one of the more popular ones, the room filled with Sparrows waiting to be transported to the Wall.

As the door opened, the faint flame of the torch in her hand showed that all of the faces inside the Black Cell had turned towards her. "Is this another test? Has the Maiden herself come for us?" One whispered hoarsely.

"No, dear man. I am no maiden, only a humble servant of God." Melisandre smiled, beginning to chant under her breath, waving the flame around.

"Which God?" He asked again.

Melisandre smiled sweetly at the direction of the voice. "R'hllor."

Unease set in the cell, as the sparrows began murmuring about heathens. Melisandre paid them no attention, instead saying her prayer. " **By the light of R'hllor, the Heart of Fire and the God of Flame and Shadow. May your heathen bodies rest well, as your minds combine to serve the Lord of Light. Grant him the power needed to strengthen R'hllor's will as the battle creeps ever closer. Lord of Light, through my body let your will be granted. Through my body let your power shine through and assist you in the battle with the darkness. For the night is dark and full of terrors.** "

As she finished, the torch light hummed, as it flashed brighter intermittently, getting larger with each hum of light. Soon the fire was too large for her to handle, and Melisandre dropped the torch on the ground.

The flame shot out as if pitch lined the floor, and the cell was nothing but burning men and screams as loud as anything Melisandre had heard. She didn't care though, as inside her body she began to feel better than she ever had before. Grinning, she took a step back, the fire on the ground going out where she placed her foot, only to reignite when she moved it again. Opening the door and closing it quickly, she was surprised to hear the screams suddenly stop, as R'hllor had soundproofed the door.

Tapping her necklace briefly, she felt the familiar feeling of power flow through her, as she glamoured herself as a man, before walking into a different cell and sitting down, waiting to be taken to the Wall.


	34. Bowed, Bent, Broken

As word reached the Red Keep of Ser Davos Seaworth's ship being sighted turning into Blackwater Bay, Durran had the full court assemble in the Throne Room. Sat on the uncomfortable Iron Throne with his Father's Crown atop his head, he looked the spitting image of a young Robert Baratheon.

He was looking forward to this being over and bringing the sheer brutality he had been showing towards House Martell to an end. Already steps had been made to safely remove all the remaining wildfire from King's Landing to be taken Northwards and used in the fight against the demons of the North. Thinking on that, Durran stole a glance at Robb Stark in the front row, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but at court.

The doors opened and brought Durran out of his thoughts. A dozen or so guards in Baratheon armour walked in, surrounding both of the prisoners, Prince Doran being wheeled in by Gendry, and Nymeria Sand to his left. Durran turned to his right, to see Stannis give him a brisk nod of encouragement.

Turning back, the Dornish pair were led to just in front of the steps up to the Iron Throne, blocked by Jaime, standing in the middle of the three Kingsguard beneath the Throne, with Ser Barristan as Lord Commander to Durran's left.

Ser Davos stepped forwards, presenting himself to the King by kneeling, but Durran bid him to rise quickly. "Ser Davos Seaworth, welcome back to King's Landing."

The knight rose to his feet. "Thank you, Your Grace. Dorne is yours, and I bring the traitor Prince Doran Martell to receive your judgement."

Doran was pushed forwards as Davos stepped back. Durran stood up and walked down the steps to stand level with Ser Jaime, who had insisted on being there while in the latter stages of his recovery. "Prince Doran. Why? Why make such a foolish error and submit the Kingdoms to more war when your Queen was a Targaryen, the Princess Elaenor having Targaryen blood." Durran asked.

Doran shook his head. "A Targaryen corrupted by Usurper influence, a Targaryen brought up not understanding the truth of her family's demise. I stand by my actions Baratheon. The rightful heir is in the belly of my niece."

Durran's eyes thinned in anger, as he looked towards the woman, her belly just noticeable. "House Targaryen lost the throne when they lost the battle of the Trident. House Baratheon rules through right of blood and of conquest. Your inability to remember that when Viserys Targaryen came calling has cost your entire House, which will end with you, My Lord. For the crime of treason, I, Durran of House Baratheon, the First of my name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm, do sentence you to die. Take him away."

Doran just looked down at his knees as he was wheeled out, leaving Nymeria Sand alone beneath the Iron Throne. As the doors closed, Durran turned to her. "And you, Nymeria Sand. Doran Martell was right in saying that Viserys' heir now lies within you, which makes you a threat if some Lord decides to cause more problems by naming the babe as rightful ruler."

The girl looked up at Durran. "Then butcher me as you've butchered the rest of my family. Become known as the Butcher of Sunspear as you follow in the Usurper's footsteps of climbing up those steps over dead children."

Durran clenched his teeth, before relaxing. "I am not my Father. No child shall die by my hand or under my orders. Within you lies the Queen's own blood, and my own daughter's cousin. They shall be raised as such, knowing the follies of their parents. You shall be kept under house arrest until the babe is born." Nymeria looked surprised and bowed her head to hide her face as she was also led out of the Throne Room. When the doors once again closed, Durran looked out to the gathered court of nobles. "Sunspear has surrendered, and the last remnants of the Golden Company have been chased out of Westeros. I can officially declare the war to be over!"

Cheers and applause erupted throughout the Throne Room as Durran stepped back to sit on the Iron Throne once more, contemplating over what he was going to do with Nymeria Sand after the baby was born.

* * *

As court was wrapped up, Durran flanked by Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime made his way up to the rooms that had been set aside for Prince Doran. He'd given the unwell man comfortable chambers out of respect for his former position, and the trio entered to find Doran sat by a table. The Grand Maester was already there ensuring that Doran was comfortable.

"Is this it?" Doran asked bitterly. "Is my time on this world over. Am I to be taken to the block in my chair or carried?"

"Nobody is going to the block today." Durran said, sitting down opposite the Dornishman. "Your family has suffered enough at my hands, I would give you peace instead."

"Peace." Doran scoffed. "You alone have done more harm to Dorne than any other before him. The only peace I would feel is your head separated from your body."

Durran didn't respond, instead he nodded to his uncle who poured two glasses of wine and placed them both on the table. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a small vial of amber liquid. "Sweetsleep." Durran explained. "I never was one for the finer learning, all I wanted to do as a child was fight and hunt and fight again. Thankfully the Grand Maester has an exceptionally large poison store, and he told me in detail on what the effects of them all are, and how long they take to kill. Sweetsleep is the kindest of them all."

"It's a bit late for kindness, do you not think?" Doran glared. "My brother, my son. My nieces, my sister. All dead at the hands of your family."

"Elia I regret." Durran said softly. "I wasn't around back then, but such things would never happen under my rule. I do not kill children Doran and I apologise on behalf of House Lannister for the monstrous crimes my Grandfather committed against her and the babes."

Doran shook his head. "It's been twenty years; do you really think even on my deathbed I can forgive such a thing when the culprit still roams the world?"

Durran leant backwards, getting more comfortable. "Not at all, but it needed saying anyway. I will take the blame for your nieces; such an end isn't how I want to be remembered for but sometimes to ensure peace you must do terrible things. All could have been avoided if you had stayed loyal to the Crown."

"Ifs, buts and maybes. What ifs and what could have beens." Doran said. "It is no use discussing them now. I stand by my loyalty to the true heir of House Targaryen, and one day your family shall pay for the extinction of mine."

Durran sighed, and uncorked the tiny vial, pouring in the liquidised sweetsleep to Doran's glass. "It will be like falling asleep." Pycelle told Doran.

"Then may I dream of the ruin of everything you hold dear." Doran snarled at Durran. The former Prince looked at the glass, before hesitantly picking it up.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry it's come to this." Durran told him.

Doran just rolled his eyes and downed the wine, spilling a tiny amount down his chin. Wiping it, he leant back in his chair, already growing drousy. "May the Seven curse your blood." He whispered, before closing his eyes for a final time.

Durran pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, letting the man have peace in his final moments before he stood up once more. "Bury him as befits a Lord." He ordered, quickly making his way out of the room.

* * *

At the end of an already busy day, Durran found himself in the White Sword Tower watching on as finally, almost three years after being coronated, the Kingsguard was filled. Ser Archibald Yronwood, the bald, six and a half feet tall, imposing nephew of Lord Anders, was being sworn in by Ser Barristan. Once the vows had been said, Durran himself handed Ser Archibald the black steel armour with purple detailing to signify Dorne, and the white cloak of the Kingsguard.

Once the ceremony had been completed, Durran walked back to his chambers. He was tired, and just wanted to stay in his rooms with Elaenor for the night, but as he was led by Ser Balon back to the King's chambers, Ser Davos and Gendry were there waiting.

"Ser Balon, I'll be fine here, go and fetch the Princess, will you?" Durran asked, and the knight bowed his head and departed. Durran opened the doors and invited the pair in. "What can I do for you?"

"Your Grace." Davos began. "I've spent over a year with Gendry here and have taught him everything I know. I'd like your permission to knight him."

Durran grinned as he sat down at his desk, happy for his half-brother. "Of course, Ser Davos. We can do the ceremony just before you depart for the Wall, if you like?"

"With respect, Your Grace." Gendry began, ringing his hands nervously. "I spoke to Lord Stark today and he told me about the problems in the North. You have been kind to me, but I know that my presence here harms you more than helps you. I… I'd like to go and join the Watch."

Durran was shocked at that. Leaning forwards onto his arms he shook his head slightly. "You will always have a place here Gendry, you know that."

"You've been kind Your Grace, but I know there are some who would have me gone. This way I can do my bit in protecting your family, while not being a threat." Gendry said, clearly having rehearsed his arguments.

Durran looked up at his brother. "I can't deter you, can I?"

Gendry looked confused and turned to Davos for clarification. "Change your mind." He explained.

Gendry nodded in recognition. "No, Your Grace. I want this."

Durran sighed and stood up. He walked around to the other side of the desk and clasped Gendry's forearm with his own. "If I can't change your mind, then allow me to knight you myself and help you to pick out a name and sigil."

Gendry smiled at that. "I'd be honoured."

And that's how Durran spent his night, allowing Gendry to sit with Elaenor as they discussed names and drew out potential sigils for the bastard, with Gendry deciding on the surname Durrande, and a sigil of a yellow Warhammer between yellow stag antlers on a field of black.

* * *

It was only a couple of days until more arrivals were coming into the dock of the Red Keep, but this time Durran was extremely excited as the ship held his own sigil of the crowned stag, and circling above the ship Durran saw Dārys and Aelyx excitedly welcoming back their sibling Rhaellar.

Durran had kept the welcoming party small, having just Stannis and Ser Barristan with him along with a few guards. Little Elaenor was squirming in Durran's arms, crying out to the dragons excitedly and causing Durran to laugh at her antics. She grew calmer as she saw the rowboat sailing into the bay however, noticing the silver hair of Daenerys gleam in the sunlight.

Durran waited until both Dany and Lord Mace had disembarked from the boat to walk forwards and greet them. Lord Tyrell bowed his head.

"Your Grace." He began. "I am pleased to report success in Braavos, the Iron Bank listened to my advice and accept a lower rate of payment for a slight increase of the interest."

Durran noticed Dany roll her eyes beside Mace Tyrell but thanked the man anyway. "Our gratitude is with you, Lord Tyrell. Please, allow the Lord Hand to escort you back to your chambers so you can rest after your wearisome journey."

Stannis stepped forwards, and after a quick greeting with Dany, led Mace Tyrell and the two Kingsguard that had accompanied them back into the castle, leaving the monarchs alone with Ser Barristan. Dany swept forward and picked up Elaenor gleefully.

"Hello baby." She cooed.

"Mama!" Elaenor cried, holding her arms out to be held by Dany. The Targaryen Queen took the one-year-old in her arms and held her tight.

"I've missed you." She said happily, plastering kisses all over Elaenor's face. "And you as well." She said, looking up to Durran.

"The city has been darker without your presence My Queen." Durran grinned, leaning down to capture Dany's lips. "You're not leaving my side again."

Dany grinned. "I can live with that." She said, kissing him once more. Durran wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they began walking back up to the castle. "What have I missed?"

Durran chuckled. "Much and more, the High Sparrow is dead and his followers are being prepared to be shipped to the Wall, Doran Martell is dead and Dorne is firmly in Edric Dayne's hands, and Robb Stark is here."

"Stark?" Dany asked surprised, shifting Elaenor in her arms so she was more comfortable. "I didn't think he'd come below the Neck again in his lifetime."

Durran's face darkened. "He tells some harrowing tales of demons and monsters North of the Wall, which is partly the reason of why I'm strengthening the Night's Watch. And why I'd like you to quietly learn how to use a sword."

Dany looked over in surprise. "Blackfyre is too big for me Durran…"

"I know." Durran interrupted. "But we may have a lead on where to find Dark Sister, which would be a better fit for you. I wouldn't normally ask but this enemy can only be killed by a couple of things and Valyrian Steel is one. I would have as many in the field as I can."

Dany nodded. "We can discuss it later, but for now if possible I just want a nice afternoon with my family, with Durran, not King Durran."

Durran grinned and kissed her head. "As My Lady commands." He said.

* * *

Dany took a few days to settle in, and happily reacquainted herself fully with every inch of her husband before she allowed herself to visit the last remaining remnant of House Martell. Nymeria Sand had been placed in a comfortable enough cell in the tower above the Red Keep dungeons, usually reserved for the knights and highborn waiting to be ransomed.

The door was unlocked to allow Dany and Ser Perwyn Frey entry, and the Queen noticed that Nymeria was stood, staring out of the window. The Dornish woman quickly glanced over at the Targaryen but returned to looking outside soon after.

"This is cruel, even for the Baratheon." Nymeria said. Dany was confused until she looked out at the view, seeing Traitor's Walk and the heads of Nymeria's two sisters and mother. Dany felt slightly ill.

"I'll see to having them removed today." She insisted. "I want to talk to you about my Brother."

Nymeria's eyes dropped to the floor. "His heir will sit the Throne one day, I promise you." She whispered.

"Do you want that though?" Dany asked, seeing how uncomfortable she was, yet trying to hide that. "I met him once, and that was enough to show that he was mad. I can't imagine what it would have been like to wed and bed him."

Nymeria sighed and looked at her sister by law. "He was a flawed man, but there was brilliance within. I am grateful he chose me to be his Queen, yet I am saddened as now his choice has left me alone."

Dany smiled softly, taking Nymeria's hand. "You are not alone. This child within you, they are my own blood. They will carry the Targaryen name and ensure my House's survival. They will never sit the Iron Throne but they will have Dragonstone. They shall be friends with my own children, and together they can help to cure the troubles that House Baratheon and Targaryen have caused one another."

Nymeria shook her head. "He's a Baratheon, he'd slaughter the babe before he allowed them to take such an important seat."

Dany shook her head. "You know only of his cruelty in wartime. If that were true he would have killed me, instead Durran made me his Queen, to ensure that the links between our two houses remain as strong as they had been for almost 300 years."

"I'm a risk." Nymeria laughed bitterly.

"You are." Dany nodded. "You're a massive risk, and your child will be born of two almost extinct houses, both at the hands of House Baratheon. And yet Durran promises me that your child will be brought up with us, as a Prince or Princess and treated as such until they are old enough to be given Dragonstone. He isn't a bad man, Nymeria."

"I suppose not to you as you let him between your legs." Nymeria told her crudely. "What about me? When I give birth?"

"You will be kept as a guest of the Red Keep." Dany told her honestly. "You can raise your child, but your freedom will be limited as retribution for your family's treason."

"Retribution." Nymeria laughed. "Such a fancy term."

"It's as kind an offer as we can give you." Dany said firmly. "For the sake of my own blood within your belly, you shan't die the traitor's death that many feel you deserve. The King has issued me with the responsibility to decide your fate due to your condition so do not test me."

Nymeria mock curtseyed. "Your Grace." She said, before turning back to the window. "I will not stop until I have justice for my family."

Dany sighed in defeat. "Then you shall plot alone in this cell until your child is born and taken away from you. Think, Nymeria. Think of your babe and the life you want them to have. If you wish to be a part of that then this stance cannot continue."

Nymeria didn't respond, and so Dany looked to Ser Perwyn to let them both out. She glanced once more at the Sand before exiting the room, not looking back as the door was locked once more.

* * *

Preparations for the Hand of the King to head to the Wall for an indeterminate amount of time took longer than Robb Stark had wanted it to, but around a fortnight after the Queen had arrived back in the Capital the ships were finally ready. The prisoners and volunteers had already departed, and all that was left was Stannis' personal ship Fury to depart. The Northerner was talking to Gendry about his new sigil and name when the King and Queen made their appearance at the beach with Stannis, as they were going through the finer details.

"Yes Uncle, Lord Randyll will do a fine job I'm sure. The capital is in safe hands." Durran could be heard saying.

"Very well." Stannis nodded, adjusting his eye patch. "I shall send a raven as soon as I arrive at the Wall."

"And often after that, I want to be kept in the loop." Durran said, as they stopped before Robb and Gendry. "That goes for Winterfell too, if there is any news whatsoever then send it to me."

"Of course, Your Grace." Robb said. "I've already sent word to Howland Reed to meet me at Moat Cailin, so I should know the truth of Dark Sister when I reach the North."

Durran nodded his agreement and the two hugged quickly. As Durran pulled away, he kept an arm on Robb's shoulder. "When the call comes from the Wall I swear I shall bring the full might of the South."

Robb smiled briefly, before his face settled in a grim fashion again. "Your Grace." He bowed to Dany quickly before heading towards the boat with Stannis and Mance Rayder.

Durran looked towards Gendry then. "Are you sure about this? There is always a place for you here."

Gendry chuckled, but nodded. "I'm sure, the Wall needs men and I'd serve you better from up there than I ever could down here."

Durran smirked. "I know I can't persuade you, but I had to try. Here, I have something for you." Durran turned to Ser Arys Oakheart behind him, and the Kingsguard handed him King Robert's Warhammer. Durran held it out to Gendry. "I want you to have this, it was our Father's."

Gendry's eyes were wide as he took the weapon. "I can't…"

"You bloody can." Durran told him firmly. "It shouldn't be sat gathering dust and I'm using a longsword, not a hammer. As the only other living son of King Robert it should go to you."

Gendry held it tighter and swung it around briefly. "I cannot thank you enough…"

"Then don't." Durran grinned. "Just make sure you take as many of those bastards as you can with it."

Gendry nodded determinedly. "I shall."

Durran grinned as he also handed Gendry the strapping to hold the Warhammer on his back. Durran pulled his brother in for a tight hug. "Stay alive until I see you again."

Gendry nodded, before Stannis called him over. As the newly knighted bastard stepped onto the boat, Durran held Dany closely, watching as the rowboat sailed away towards the Fury.

"You'll see them again." She smiled.

Durran nodded grimly. "I know, I'm just not looking forward to the circumstances is all."

* * *

The days after Stannis and the others left for the North were busy, as Durran had to spend more and more time performing his duties as King, and it barely gave him a chance to spend time with his family. One afternoon however he managed to hand off some of his pressing duties to his Small Council and went off to find Dany for an afternoon together.

It took him a while, but he found her in her own separate chambers, that were only ceremonial considering the amount of nights she spent in his. The King was surprised to see her in just a shift, being examined by Maester Hothar.

"Is everything alright?" He asked.

"Durran!" Dany exclaimed, not expecting him. "I thought you were too busy."

"I'm free this afternoon, what's going on?" He asked.

Dany blushed, as she looked towards the young Maester. The man looked up at his King. "Her Grace came to me with a concern, and I was just ensuring that her self-diagnosis was correct." He explained.

Durran grew worried. "Self-diagnosis?" He asked, kneeling beside the bed to grab Dany's hand. "Are you unwell? Let me send for more Maesters…"

"Durran, Durran calm yourself." Dany said with a smile. "I'm fine."

"But…" The King began.

"You are correct, Your Grace." Hothar said with a smile. "All the signs point to you being almost halfway through pregnancy."

That news stumped Durran, as his mouth opened of his own accord yet nothing came out. Dany wasn't quite so lost for words, as she beamed a smile. "Thank you, Maester."

The man smiled and left the room to leave the two young monarchs to process the news. Durran turned to his wife and just whispered. "A baby."

Dany grinned, and sat up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I had a hunch in Braavos, but I didn't get the time to confirm it until now. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Durran grinned, before her words sunk in. "Braavos? You knew in Braavos? You shouldn't be travelling in your condition…"

"I am not some delicate flower that needs to be coddled and kept hidden." Dany told him firmly. "I am a dragon, and having a babe in my belly doesn't mean I cannot perform my duties to you and our Kingdom."

"But what if something had happened…" Durran began, but Dany shushed him once more.

"I am fine, we are fine." Dany said, kissing him on the lips. "We have another baby coming, let's focus on that rather than worry about things that haven't happened."

Durran nodded, listening to his wife. She pulled him to his feet before dragging him back down onto the bed on top of her, as the two lovers celebrated the news by losing themselves within each other's bodies.


	35. Will of R'hllor

On the bank of the Weeping Water, far to the North of King's Landing, the Lord of the Dreadfort was sat in the Lord's chair after hearing word of a surprise visitor from the North. He noticed the bastard skulking around in the shadows but paid no mind to him once the doors opened.

In strode the heir to Last Hearth, Smalljon Giantsbane, flanked by a couple of Umber men. He walked up to the Throne and stood there.

"I must say, this is a surprise." Roose admitted. "An Umber meeting in secret with House Bolton is sure to raise a few questions in Winterfell."

"Which is why nobody knows I'm here, other than yourself." Smalljon said bluntly.

"Not even your Father?" Roose asked.

The Smalljon laughed. "He's grown weak. I used to respect him above all else, but he's allowed Jon Snow to settle Wildlings throughout the Gift, and it's only a matter of time before they come to our lands in their numbers and do what they've always done. Together we can stop them."

Roose sat back, considering the unsaid offer. He'd always bided his time, waiting for a Stark to slip up so that his House could pounce, and the Smalljon was almost offering an alliance with House Umber. Almost.

"You have no authority to strike these kinds of bargains." Roose told the tall man. "Your Father is still Lord of Last Hearth, and he is still at the Wall is he not?"

"Drinking himself into his grave, so I'm told." The Smalljon grumbled. "If he'd die quicker then this would be easier."

"And my answer would still be no." Roose said firmly. "I am sworn by oath to House Stark."

The Smalljon grinned. "Don't pretend you're bound by oaths, Leech Lord. I know you well enough from the Southern campaign to know that if you had a chance you'd have sold us all out to further your own schemes. The Wildling fuckers are a threat to us all, and they need to be dealt with."

Roose was growing irritated. "Lord Stark has delicately brokered a truce, so that the greater threat can be defeated. I'd implore you to remember that."

"What greater threat?" The Smalljon asked. "How do we know this isn't some wives tale spun by the Wildlings so that they can come South with ease? Stark's been fooled, and it's time that true Northern leadership was shown in driving them back behind the Wall."

Roose shook his head. "The Bolton's and a handful of Umbers against the rest of the North and the Wildlings? I dislike them too, Jon, but I'm not prepared to go against Robb Stark's judgement with such terrible odds."

"Would it be easier with some leverage?" The Smalljon smirked. Roose raised his eyebrow, intrigued, and watched as one of the Umber guards reached into a bag and threw the black head of a very large wolf at his feet. "The youngest Stark boy is in my custody with his nursemaid."

This certainly grabbed the Lord of the Dreadfort's attention. He stood up and walked towards the severed Direwolf head, crouching down to see that it was authentic. "I saw this beast at Winterfell before we marched South." Roose admitted. "What are you doing with Rickon Stark?"

The Smalljon shrugged. "He survived the sacking of Winterfell and figured we were his safest bet, I don't fucking know. My son took him in and befriended him, but I knew that he was the leverage I need to rid my lands of those goatfuckers from the North."

This changed everything. No longer could Roose just refuse and let the Smalljon walk out as if nothing had happened. On the one hand, a hostage was excellent if any action against the Starks were to be taken, but on the other if Robb Stark caught word of this… His mind made up, Roose turned to the captain of his guard. "Arrest him."

"What?" The Smalljon asked, preparing to draw his sword. Quickly however, crossbow bolts flew from both sides of the room slaughtering the Smalljon's two guards, and the Umber heir was surrounded by swords, as Bolton men closed in.

"Take him to the dungeons. And bring me the Maester. I have a letter to write." Roose ordered. As the Smalljon was forced to drop his sword in pure anger.

* * *

The month since Dany returned from Braavos and announced her pregnancy flew by, it seemed. With no Stannis around the King and Queen were thrown into their duties, and barely had time for anything else. Due to this, it took the month for Dany to realise that her Red Woman was seemingly absent from the castle.

It didn't take long to find something however. Dany and Ser Perwyn Frey entered the Red Woman's chambers to find it completely empty. "She never has this fire out." Dany noted, walking towards the fireplace. "Something's wrong."

"Your Grace." Ser Perwyn said, causing the Queen to turn around, and she saw that he was holding some parchment. "It's addressed to you."

Dany walked towards him and took the letter, reading it. "She's gone." She sighed, reading on until she read the last line, and Dany grew confused. "Place this in the fire and understand?" Dany asked nobody in particular. Suddenly though, the fire roared to life. Surprised, Dany ignored the sword being drawn from Ser Perwyn's scabbard and walked slowly towards the flames.

"Your Grace…" Ser Perwyn said warningly, but Dany held her hand up to stop him.

"I'll be perfectly safe Ser." She mentioned, a hand on her bulging belly as she got to her knees and dropped the letter into the fire. Thick black smoke poured from the parchment and spiralled upwards towards Dany, who inhaled it all through her nose. Eyes wide, she stared into the flames as images flashed in her mind.

What seemed like hours to Daenerys, was only a brief second to Ser Perwyn, who immediately dropped his sword as Dany fell backwards, catching her in his arms before she fell. "Your Grace! Are you alright?"

"Yes…" She said hoarsely. "How long was I gone for?"

"Gone?" Perwyn asked. "The letter burned, and blackened, you inhaled it's essence and then fell backwards. You weren't gone at all."

"Impossible…" Dany breathed quietly, before composing herself. Letting Perwyn help her up, she patted her dress down before looking up at the tall Kingsguard knight. "Take me to Cersei." She commanded.

Perwyn was baffled. "I should take you to the King…"

"You will take me to see Cersei." Dany interrupted. "I must speak with her, urgently."

Cersei was certainly surprised when Daenerys came barging through her doors with her Kingsguard protector. Putting down her needlework, she looked up at the Queen. "Your Grace? How may I assist you?"

"Keep guard outside Perwyn." Dany said calmly. Ser Perwyn looked to hesitate, but bowed his head and walked outside, shutting the doors. Dany sat herself down facing Cersei and sighed. "We need to talk."

"About?" The Queen Mother asked.

"Maggy the Frog."

Cersei's eyes widened as her face grew pale. "How do you know that name." She whispered coldly.

"I saw a vision." Dany said. "In the flames, I saw many visions. One of them was you as a child meeting someone called Maggy the Frog."

Cersei glared, and stood up, facing her window. "I don't know what you think you saw…"

"I saw you give her your blood, and I heard her prediction. It came true, didn't it." Dany said softly. "The fight to tear your house usunder, your most beloved falls to thunder. That was about Joffrey dying in the civil war."

"Enough!" Cersei screamed, a tear falling from her eye. "Stop."

"I heard the rest, about your children and King Robert's." Dany said softly. I was shown it, so you would believe me about the rest."

"Get out." Cersei said weakly.

"I need your advice." Dany told her. "You hated King Robert, likely more than Viserys did, definitely more than I do. But Durran still holds him in high esteem, which is why I need someone that knows him as well as I do to help me decide whether I should tell him this."

Cersei turned to face the Queen. "He trusts you far more than he trusts me." Cersei sighed. "I don't know how well I know him anymore."

Dany shook her head. "He trusts you, he just doesn't want to be hurt by you again."

That stung, Cersei thought, although she knew that it was justified. "What do you need to tell him?"

Dany wrung her hands together. "I was shown a vision, a vision of my brother, Rhaegar."

This interested Cersei, as she sat back down. "I fancied myself in love with him." She reminisced. "At the Tourney of Lannisport, I heard we were to be married, which is why I went to see that witch." She spat the last part. "Your Father had the last laugh however, married him off to the weak Martell girl."

"He never loved Elia." Dany said. "He loved another, and she loved him back. He annulled his marriage in order to marry another."

Cersei was confused, but the cogs turning in her brain worked it out. "Stark…" She whispered, before breaking out into a hearty laugh. "The fool, the great buffoon. He started a war to find his lost love when she wanted another man." Her laughs continued as she poured herself some wine and gave a toast towards the sky. "How about that you giant oaf. The love of your life happily fucking the man you hated so much."

"She was pregnant, in the end." Dany said quietly. "I don't know what happened, but she was pregnant."

Cersei's smile fell. "If she birthed a baby and it survived…"

"Then Durran would still be the rightful King, by right of conquest." Dany shook her head, stopping the thought from forming fully in her own mind.

"It would cause trouble though, and so soon after Viserys." Cersei sighed. "The Spider can never know. Nobody can know."

"I should tell Durran that his Father started the war on false information though, and that Lyanna was pregnant." Dany sighed. "But how would he take it?"

Cersei wasn't sure. "It's inconsequential." She decided. "Durran is the rightful King and he has beaten back all claims. Even if the Stark girl did birth a child, they would have died. Bothering him with this isn't necessary."

"Bothering him with what?" A voice came from the doorway. The two women hadn't noticed the door opening and stood there looking concerned was the hulking figure of Durran, with Myrcella next to him.

Dany immediately stood up. "Durran, we didn't hear you come in." She said quickly.

"I can tell. Bother me with what?" Durran asked.

Cersei swept over to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Come, my love." She said to Myrcella. "Let us go and see how the seamstresses are doing with your new gowns, this one is barely keeping together around your chest."

Mycella looked at Durran, mortified. "Mother!" The 14-year-old exclaimed.

Cersei chuckled as she guided her arm around Myrcella's back. "Come sweetling, Durran is a married man now, he knows all about what you're going through." Turning back to Dany, she said. "Do what you think is best."

Dany watched as the door shut, and she turned and poured herself a small glass of wine, downing it quickly before pouring another and offering it to Durran. He shook his head. "Not right now. What's going on?" He persisted.

Dany sighed, and sat back down. "You know the Red Woman, she had these visions."

"She's evil." Durran scowled. "I've just found out that she had the majority of the Sparrows burnt alive, one of the Black Cells is covered in ash. I know you trust her, but I can't have her in my city."

This news shocked Dany, but she had to put it to one side for the moment. "She's gone, she didn't tell me where." She explained. "But when I looked in the flames in her room, I saw things, both in the flames and in my mind."

Durran raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I." Dany threw her hands up in exasperation, leaning back into the chair. "Some things were clear, and some are still just riddles to me."

Durran smiled at the sight of the pregnant woman. "Tell me what you think you saw then, we can try and work through it together."

Dany nodded. "I saw a roaring fire freeze completely."

"Frozen flames could imply the Walkers, or even the Starks." Durran offered.

"I saw a small dragon dancing with a squid."

Durran's smile fell. "The last dance you saw implied Shireen and Edmure marrying, I won't marry any of my children off to a Greyjoy."

Dany grinned at how protective he seemed. "Down boy, we don't know if that's what it means. It could mean a fight, I'm not sure."

Durran pondered on that. "That's true, Balon Greyjoy has been almost silent recently since he was kicked out of the North. I'll get Varys to keep an eye on the West."

Dany nodded, breathing slightly easier. "Why are these visions happening to me." She whispered. "I'm not special."

Durran laughed softly, kneeling before her and taking her hands in his. "You are the most special person in the entire world, Daenerys Stormborn. The last blood of Valyria, the Mother of Dragons. Queen of Westeros and of my heart. Whether this is a gift from the Seven or the Red God is truly real, I do not know, but magic is in your blood."

"I saw a dragon too." Dany said, frowning as she tried to remember. "But it had three eyes."

"You, and our two children." Durran grinned. "Doesn't House Targaryen put a lot of faith into the three heads or something."

Dany shook her head. "Three eyes, not three heads."

"If these were easy to decipher, then the Red Priests of Volantis would rule the entire world by now." Durran rolled his eyes.

Dany thought about her two clearest visions, of Cersei and of Rhaegar. Deciding against telling him about them yet, she had only one puzzle left in her mind. "The last thing I saw… I saw a body in the blizzard, staining the snow red."

This chilled Durran. "Did you see who it was?"

Dany shook her head. "No, I could barely see anything through the snowfall. Just black."

* * *

Hardhome had affected them all. Every man, woman and child had been haunted on the journey back to Castle Black, and none more than Jon Snow. As soon as the majority of Wildlings had passed through the Wall, he shut himself away in his chambers, solemnly dabbing at a cut on Ygritte's cheek from the blade of a wight.

"Keep it clean." He said monotonously, as he washed the cloth again. "You don't want it to corrupt."

"If you say so, Jon Snow." Ygritte smirked, before falling back to a stoic look. "You can't blame yourself."

"Three of my brothers died because I took them to Hardhome." Jon argued. "That was my choice, and they died."

"Aye, and thousands still live because you went there." Ygritte countered, jabbing Jon in the chest. "Thousands live because you took the chance to talk to Mance. We owe you our lives, Jon Snow. Some twice over."

"You don't owe me anything." Jon waved off, turning to his letters. He read that the Hand of the King Stannis Baratheon was heading Northwards with a host of men to join the Night's Watch and was grateful for the good news. "Robb managed to convince the King then." He smiled briefly.

"Aye, and he's offered rewards to the families of volunteers." Jon nodded. "This is good, we can start manning the other castles once enough arrive."

Ygritte grinned sultrily, and stood leaning over on Jon's desk, her eyes looking up to his. "Are you going to send me away, Jon Snow." She teased.

Jon smirked. "I'd keep you here forever if I could." He told her. "Maybe once this is all over, we can see what happens. If we win, there may be no need for the Night's Watch."

Ygritte looked surprised. "I thought you were tied to this place with your oath?"

Jon shrugged. "I broke it in the cave." He chuckled softly. "I don't know. While there's a Watch then I'll do my duty, even if it tears me away from you."

Ygritte leaned forwards and kissed him roughly. "I told you before." She began. "You're mine, and I'm yours."

Jon smiled, remembering the last time she said those words. "If we die, we die." He continued, taking her hand in his, softly rubbing her hand with his thumb.

"But first, we'll live." Ygritte whispered, pushing all of Jon's papers on the floor and climbing on the desk, ready to take the Lord Commander in a way that only she could.

* * *

Sansa held her nephew on the ramparts of Winterfell, again looking down on Arya training hard with Brienne of Tarth. Now that Winterfell had for the most part been fully repaired and the mourning period for the death of Ser Garlan had passed, the day that she was due to leave for Highgarden had arrived.

"I hope you remember your Aunt Sansa." The red head said softly to the 9-month-old. She had spent as much time as possible with the heir to Winterfell in the months since his birth, and he seemed to like her more than he did Arya, though Sansa's hair being one of Brandon's favourite things to grab was likely the reason. "I may not get to see you for a long time but know that I'll always love you."

"He will always love you too." A soft voice came from behind her, and both Brandon and Sansa recognised the voice. Turning around, Sansa set Brandon on the floor as he crawled over to his Mother.

"Lady Roslin." Sansa curtseyed quickly, as the woman she was speaking to bent down to pick her son up.

"Your Mother is ready." Roslin said sadly.

Sansa sighed, staring out on the light snowfall filling the air. For the year the ground had been covered white, as winter was soon approaching. "Thank you." She said sadly, keeping an eye in the distance.

Roslin noticed this. "A raven came from White Harbour saying that Robb had arrived at Moat Cailin, but it was only dated two days ago. He was within the Neck for over a week."

Sansa tried not to get upset. "So he won't be here in a week, let alone an hour." Breathing deeply, she kept strong. "Very well, I can't leave Willas waiting."

Roslin had a sad smile, as she gave her sister by law a one-handed hug. "Write often, I want to hear how beautiful the Reach is." Roslin said.

"Of course I will." Sansa smiled, as she looked down at Brandon. "I'll want to hear all about this one growing up."

Leaning down, she planted a kiss on the squirming boy's forehead before the two women made their way down to the stables, where Catelyn had already gathered Sansa's belongings in the cart. Around a dozen soldiers were coming with them to the wedding, but Arya was staying behind as the only Stark in Winterfell, though Roslin was in charge until Robb returned.

"Are you ready?" Cat asked her eldest daughter.

"Were you when you knew you had to marry Father?" Sansa asked.

Cat laughed lightly. "Our wedding was so rushed we didn't have anywhere near the time you have had to think about it. Willas seems a lovely man, with a capable mind. He will treat you well."

Sansa nodded, but didn't reply. Instead she chose to brush her horse as Catelyn commanded somebody to go and fetch Arya, who arrived in moments.

"So, you're going then." Arya said.

"I am." Sansa replied.

Arya let out a smirk. "I'm almost sorry for you, going South again."

Sansa breathed out a laugh. "It will be better than last time."

Arya's smile dropped, as she looked seriously into Sansa's blue eyes. "If you need help, send me a raven at Moat Cailin and I'll come and help you."

Thinking back to their relationship before leaving for King's Landing, Sansa's eyes brimmed with tears. She caught her sister in a fierce hug, who half-heartedly returned the display of affection. "I will." Sansa whispered. Stepping away, Sansa wiped a tear away with her glove before mounting her horse, and the call to depart was heard.

She stayed in silence throughout the journey that day, and remained silent as they stopped at Castle Cerwyn that night, only politely speaking to the new Lady of House Cerwyn, Jonella, and her husband Beren Tallhart. Catelyn noticed this, and spoke with her as they were getting ready to sleep that night.

"I know it's difficult, and I understand you're cautious about this wedding." Cat said. "But this is a marriage that can have an impact on the North for generations to come, you have always been a dutiful girl Sansa, if the thought of getting married does not make you smile as it once did, then think of what this means for your home. The trade we can gain from this will feed us all for years, and the Tyrell's will be good to you."

Her words had made Sansa think that night, and while all she wanted was to turn around and stay in Winterfell for the rest of her days, she used every lesson that she had learnt in King's Landing and put on a smile.

* * *

Weeks after Dany was rocked by the visions came the first visit to the capital for the newest member of House Baratheon of Storm's End. Stefan and Margaery had travelled up from the Stormlands to present Lyonel to court, and after a small feast for the court to welcome the baby Baratheon into the world, Dany and Durran had invited them to their chambers for a quieter drink. Elaenor was quite content playing in the corner with Myrcella, a couple of dolls in her hands, while the four adults were reminiscing about the past.

"It's strange to believe that she will soon be two." Margaery admitted.

Durran nodded, smiling happily at his daughter. "Yes, I remember the day she was born like yesterday. She's the light that kept me going through the Dornish problem."

"I can understand that now." Stefan nodded, Lyonel asleep in his remaining arm. "I'd do anything to keep Lyonel safe."

"It's a shame Lord Stannis isn't here." Margaery said. "We had hoped he could meet his grandson."

Dany nodded. "We do too, but with the news coming from the North it was urgent. I'm sure he'll be back soon to meet this little one." She said, smiling at the baby while resting her hand on her own bump.

"How long have you got left?" Stefan asked the Queen.

"Two moons, I believe." Dany said unhappily. "I just want to meet him now."

"Him?" Durran said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Dany nodded. "We've got our girl, it's high time we got you an actual heir to the throne."

Margaery was surprised. "Elaenor won't be the heir?"

Durran shook his head. "The law states that women cannot be the outright ruler, and in any case she is to marry Robb Stark's son when they are of age, I won't be handing the Iron Throne over to a Stark any time soon. As we stand, little Lyonel here is the third in line for the Throne."

"If there's a throne to come back too." Stefan said, and the mood darkened. "We got your raven about sending men to the Wall, it can't be true, can it?"

Durran nodded. "If you had seen the faces of Tarly and Mance Rayder, then you'd understand. They were haunted, like the very mention would bring the Walkers into the room. We need everybody ready, from Last Hearth to the Arbor."

Stefan nodded. "We have lost a lot of men over the last few years, but the few we do still have are training fiercely. The Stormlands will be ready, you have my word."

Durran grinned at his cousin, but Dany stopped them both. "None of this talk with the children here, please. I don't want to scare Elle." She said, nervously looking into the corner where Myrcella was doing a fine job keeping the toddler entertained. The two men hastily apologised, much to Margaery's amusement.

"My Grandmother would like you." The Tyrell grinned. "Having the King of the Realm on puppet strings."

Durran pouted at the insinuation but joined in the laughter as the four friends caught up further. It was a rare moment when he got to relax with his family, and he intended to make the most of it while he still could.

* * *

The Dreadfort dungeons were a horrid place. Throughout history men had been brought here, and very rarely did they ever see the light of day again. The Smalljon was tied to a cross, shouting and screaming at everybody that could hear him. His loud bellows only stopped when the door to his cell opened, and in came Ramsay Snow, flicking a thin knife between his fingers.

"You better let me go." Umber warned."

Ramsay had a wry grin on his face. "Or what?" He asked.

"Or I swear, you'll feel the wrath of Last Hearth." Smalljon growled.

Ramsay did his best to look worried, before bursting into laughter again. "You said it yourself, nobody knows where you are. My Father could be up there spinning all manners of tales to Robb Stark and nobody could discredit them."

"Father?" Umber asked. "You're the Bastard."

Ramsay's face fell into a scowl at the word. "I am his natural son, yes." He grimaced, flicking the knife again. "And you want to be a bit nicer to me."

"And why is that?" Umber rolled his eyes. "You can't kill me, I'm the heir to…"

"You're a traitor!" Ramsay exclaimed gleefully. "You came here to incite my Father to rebel against House Stark. You are nothing more than a traitor now, Lord Umber." He stepped forwards, and held the thin blade in front of the Smalljon's face. "This blade, it's been passed down from generation to generation of Boltons, and it's severed the skin off of many Starks, Karstarks, Umbers, even a few Greystarks at one point before they died."

Ramsay disappeared behind the Smalljon, who would never admit it, but began to feel some fear creeping into his bones. "Do what you are going to do then." He growled.

"If you insist." Ramsay said nonchalantly from behind, and the Smalljon was suddenly falling forwards, as the binding around his hands was cut. "Do you really think my Father would agree to go against the Stark's in the open like that? You Umbers have no subtlety, you left him no choice but to arrest you."

"Then why are you here?" Umber asked.

Ramsay grinned. "Because you're right. The Starks aren't fit to rule, their decisions have shown that. But in order to take them down, we need to play it smart."

The Smalljon was intrigued. "And how do we do that?"

Ramsay grinned once again, a devilish glint in his eyes. "By making our displeasure public. We go to Winterfell and petition him, once we are refused, we can claim injustice. Many of the North will rally against him once they learn how friendly he's getting with the Wildlings."


	36. Fire and Blood

As word from Eastwatch by the Sea came to Castle Black detailing that Stannis Baratheon had arrived with a few hundred men to take the black, Jon persuaded Ygritte to go and join the other Free Folk settling in the gift. He did so with a heavy heart, but already rumours had spread that the Lord Commander lay with a woman each night, and he had to set an example to the rest of his men.

Signing a pre-written letter for King Durran explaining that Stannis had arrived, Jon looked up as the horn blew from atop the Wall.

"Riders under the stag of Baratheon!" A voice called.

"Stannis." Jon muttered. "Olly, my sword and cloak."

The young steward gathered Jon's equipment, and the two of them waited in the fairly heavy snowfall at the wooden barrier by the Lord Commander's chambers as the gate creaked open, allowing for the hundreds of men to come streaming into the castle. Jon noticed two mounted men. One in black Kingsguard armour with yellow detailing, and another man wearing a small pin in the shape of a hand, and Jon presumed him to be Stannis Baratheon.

The young Stark bastard walked down the steps to the courtyard and stopped in front of Stannis Baratheon. "Lord Hand. I am Jon Snow. Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"Jon Snow." Stannis greeted, lowering himself down from is horse. "I bring you plenty of salted meats, vegetables, and 538 men to join the Night's Watch."

Jon was surprised at the numbers. "Your gifts are well received, Lord Stannis. Please, join me in my solar. Your men shall be settled in by our First Ranger, Ser Alliser Thorne."

Stannis grimaced as he recognised the name but nodded. "Very well. Ser Gendry, join me." He ordered.

Jon looked at the other man with Stannis and was slightly shocked. He looked older of course, but Gendry looked almost exactly like Durran had all those years ago in Winterfell. "Ser Gendry? Are you any relation to the King?" Jon asked.

"His brother…" Gendry began.

"Bastard brother. Ser Gendry Durrande" Stannis corrected, pointing out his new name. "But a fine warrior and knighted by King Durran himself."

Jon nodded his understanding, offering his hand to Gendry. "Well met Ser."

Gendry took the hand and shook it. "Gendry is fine, Lord Commander. I'm still getting used to my new title."

"It will give you standing in the ranks of the Watch." Stannis told his nephew.

This surprised Jon. "You're here to take the black?"

Gendry nodded. "When I heard about what was coming I knew I had to do my part. This way I can be useful for my brother, and I'm not in the way in case some Lords decide they don't like that Lannister blood is on the throne."

Jon could understand that, having been around Catelyn Stark enough to realise that she thought him a threat to Robb when they were younger. "Well I'm sure we can find you a role here Gendry. Come, let us get out of the cold."

The three men walked up to Jon's solar, and Olly got them all drinks and some food.

"Your men will be a valuable help, Lord Stannis." Jon told him. "The ones that have military backgrounds I'll have Ser Alliser rush them through training and ideally we can begin to open more castles along the Wall."

"Which castles are already open?" Stannis asked.

Jon got a map of the Wall out and pointed each one out. "Castle Black and Eastwatch as you know, as well as the Shadow Tower in the West. I've only reopened Greyguard this year, but with the men you've provided I can get skeleton crews in every castle along the Wall."

Stannis nodded. "That is good news, the King will be delighted to hear it."

"It's all thanks to him." Jon shrugged.

"And what of the Wildlings?" Gendry asked.

Jon stopped briefly. "The Free folk, as they prefer, they're settling well in the Gift."

"We left Mance Rayder at Eastwatch, it sounds daft saying it, but I trust him to keep them under control." Stannis told Jon.

Jon nodded. "Mance is a good man, he values his people's lives above any hatred that both the free folk and the Night's Watch once shared and that's made it easier for them to adapt to the new order. There are still some that believe I am in the wrong for agreeing to this, however." He sighed.

Stannis pursed his lips. "In command, you will always have those that question you, those that wish to usurp your power for themselves. It happens everywhere no matter what level of rulership you find yourself. All you can do is what you know to be right, and those that you lead are obligated to follow that. If not, then show them exactly who is in command."

Jon quickly smirked. "That's almost what the late Maester Aemon told me just before he died."

Stannis paused at the comparison to a Targaryen but relaxed as much as he could, realising that it was a compliment. "Well, they had their madness in that family, but the Queen proves that there were some great Targaryen's in the world. Maester Aemon I'm sure will be sorely missed."

"He will." Jon sighed, before standing up. "But we cannot dwell in the past. Come, Lord Stannis. Allow me to show you our full operation so that the King is fully informed. We should see about getting Ser Gendry a role here too."

"He's a good smith." Stannis nodded.

Jon looked surprised. "Is that so? I've never known a knight that smithed before."

Gendry looked slightly shy. "I've been a smith all my life, it was only when I met King Durran that I started to train to be a knight."

Jon looked thoughtful for a moment. "Our current smith lost his apprentice in the battle against the free folk. He only has one arm, so head over to him and help him out for now if you're up for making more weapons."

Gendry smiled. "I'd love that, Lord Commander."

"Your one arm smith." Stannis began. "What is his name?"

"Donal Noye." Jon shrugged. Stannis almost smirked.

"I know him. He was caught in the siege of Storm's End and lost his arm. A good man, I was saddened to lose him." Stannis admitted.

"Then let's start our tour at the smithy." Jon said, opening the door for the two Baratheon men, leading them out into the cold.

* * *

Riding into Winterfell this time was a much better experience for Robb Stark. The castle was just about repaired with only the final touches to be made, and of course there were no bodies to be cut down. The Stark lords mind was everywhere, however, with the information gained from his stay in the Neck eating away at him.

He had seen Sansa and his Mother briefly on their way down the Kingsroad and had spent half a day with her, catching himself up on what had happened in his home since he had been away, and Sansa had gleefully chatted about his son, Brandon. The words had made him rush his party back to Winterfell, and his fast journey back from the Neck meant that there was no procession there to greet him, but Robb was ok with that. It was fairly late into the evening and the Stark Lord was happier to just observe life go on as usual in Winterfell, although as soon as he was spotted people bowed and curtseyed towards him.

Leaving his horse at the stables Robb hurried himself to the Great Keep and through to the Lord's chambers. Opening his bedroom door, he stopped in the doorway and stared in. Roslin was sat on the bed, playing with a wooden Direwolf to keep a baby entertained. His baby.

A tear fell from one of his eyes at the sight before him as both Roslin and baby Brandon stared at him. Roslin's face formed into a huge grin at the sight of him. "Lord Stark." She said happily.

"My Lady." Robb managed, before walking forwards and kneeling before the bed. "I… I'm sorry I've been so long. I missed so much."

Roslin looked back at their son. "We know, the things you've had to do… they are important."

"Family should come before that." Robb said.

Roslin smiled. "Your duty is to the entire North, Lord Stark. You couldn't avoid helping the Night's Watch, just as you couldn't hand a meeting with the King over to one of your Lords."

Robb nodded, just as Brandon started babbling, and shoving the wooden Direwolf into his mouth. Letting out a laugh, he held his hand out to stroke his son's cheek, only for Brandon to grow uneasy and whining for his Mother.

"It's ok Brandon." Roslin cooed. "This is your Father." He held the baby's hand in one of her own, before taking one of Robb's and slowly placing them together. The baby still wasn't too sure, but allowed Robb to hold his hand.

* * *

The next morning Robb was forced to be the Lord again rather than just a Father as Maester Luwin met him at breakfast. A brief reunion with Arya was cut short as all manner of news from the North required his attention.

"Karhold is still complaining about the Wildling arrangements then." Robb sighed. "I'll write to Lord Karstark myself. What of the Greatjon?"

Luwin shook his head. "Last Hearth has been quiet, My Lord."

Robb frowned. "Have you any parchment?" Luwin nodded, as Robb took that and a quill, and quickly scribbled out two notes, fixing his seal to the letters. "Copy this out and send it to Last Hearth. I want two sent immediately so I know that Lord Umber will get it." Robb handed one letter over, before holding the other one out. "And this one goes to Jon at the Wall."

Luwin took it, and the colour in his face drained from shock. "My Lord? This…"

"Is all true." Robb told him. "Send them now, Luwin."

"My Lord." Luwin bowed his acceptance and almost ran from the Great Hall. Arya looked up from her sausage, intrigued.

"What was that about?" She asked.

"Arya." Roslin reprimanded. Arya just shrugged.

"It's ok My Lady." Robb said softly. "This involves Arya."

Arya groaned at that. "You're not marrying me off again are you, I'm not even been to Moat Cailin again yet!"

Robb smirked at her annoyance. "No, my deal with Lord Walder remains. This is about Bran and Rickon."

Arya's face darkened, as Roslin fell silent too, her eyes widened in horror. "Have you found Theon? He had better be alive." Arya growled. "I want to kill him myself."

"You'll be behind me in that line." Robb told her. "No, Theon is still in the wind, but his crimes are less than we thought. He didn't kill Bran and Rickon, they're out there somewhere."

He watched his sister not know how to react, opening and closing her mouth several times. "What?" Was her only question. "We buried them."

"They weren't Bran, nor Rickon." Robb told her. "Bran was seen at the Wall and Rickon was on his way to Last Hearth. I'm going to send out a party soon to Last Hearth, but we can't go Beyond the Wall." He added the last part with a hint of venom in his voice.

"Why not!" Arya exclaimed loudly. "He's our brother!"

"And an army of dead men are likely between him and us!" Robb roared back, causing Brandon to let out a whine at the sudden noise. Robb apologised before collecting his emotions and leaning back in his chair, running his hand through his curls. "The dead are coming for us, Arya." He said softly. "I can't afford to send men off on a wild goose chase when we don't know where Bran went. He may be dead."

"We can't just abandon him though." Arya snapped.

"I will never abandon my family." Robb told her. "But I am Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North as well, I can't waste our resources North of the Wall when the Long Night is coming again. I will get Rickon home though, that I swear to you, on the Old Gods and the New."

Chills went through the room at Robb's promise, but Arya nodded her agreement. Standing up, she straightened her leather training costume and said. "If I may be excused."

Robb just nodded knowing that, while she agreed, he had to keep an eye on her. "That didn't go well." He sighed.

"Is it true, really true?" Roslin whispered, terrified. "I always thought the Long Night was a Northern superstition."

"Jon believed, and he saw them. Samwell Tarly saw them. The Long Night is real, and it's coming for us all." Robb said grimly.

* * *

A few hours after the ravens flew, Robb made his way to the crypts. Stopping in front of the effigy of his Father, he stood solemnly for a moment in reflection.

"I don't know how you found it all so easy." Robb sighed. "Everything is escalating Father, and I don't know how to keep everybody safe. Bran's lost, Rickon is lost. Arya is… well Arya. I need you, Father. I need you to tell me what to do." He laughed at that last statement. "Listen to me, three years as Lord of Winterfell and I still sound like a child, when at my age you silently committed treason against King Robert." He looked over at his Aunt Lyanna's statue. "For family though. For House Stark."

Walking over towards the statue, he said a silent prayer to the Old Gods for their mercy and went to the back of her. Running his hands along the stone, the words of Howland Reed rang in his ears.

' _The statue is the key. Find the sigil My Lord and you'll know I speak true._ '

He found it on the small of Lyanna's back. The sigil of the three-headed dragon carved into the back of the statue, no bigger than Robb's thumbprint. Pressing it, he heard a noise from behind the statue, where the stone tomb sat. Taking a torch, he illuminated the area behind the statue, and saw a stone drawer open at the bottom.

"Robb?" A voice came from towards the entrance to the crypts. Arya's voice.

"Here!" He called out, struggling to open the heavy drawer by himself. "Give me a hand here!"

"What are you doing!" Arya whispered harshly.

"Figuring out the truth." Robb replied. "You know I went to see Howland Reed before coming back to Winterfell?"

"Yes…" Arya said warily.

"That was because I needed to know what happened in Dorne when Father went there in the war." Robb explained. "It turns out that Rhaegar Targaryen had Dark Sister, the Valyrian Steel sword, all along. But didn't by the time he came to fight at the Trident."

Arya was working it out in her head. "So, you think he gave it to Lyanna? Why? Why would he give her such a sword when he kidnapped her?"

"Did he?" Robb asked. Arya was confused. "Who told us what happened?"

"Maester Luwin…"

"And was he there?" Robb asked. Arya fell silent. "Two men left Dorne alive that day, and only one is alive now."

"Father wouldn't lie." Arya said defiantly.

"And he never did." Robb told her. "He always kept quiet, never speaking about Dorne to anybody, never telling us who Jon's Mother was or where he came from…"

Arya's eyes widened as she looked back up to the statue of Lyanna. "No…"

"Help me, and we'll find out." Robb said, gripping the stone as he began to tug. Arya helped him and they soon both fell backwards as the stone drawer scraped open. It was fairly shallow, and only held three objects. Robb pulled out the book and opened it to a random page. Reading it, he sighed. "It's her diary. Aunt Lyanna's diary. She was pregnant."

"The harp." Arya said, shocked, half ignoring him. "Aunt Lyanna cried when she heard him play at Harrenhal. This is the harp." Robb looked up from the book as Arya dragged out a black metallic harp with ruby dragons snaking down the pillar. He looked back in the stone drawer and took a sharp intake of breath.

"There." He said stoically. Arya put the harp down and reached back in, pulling out a slender longsword, wrapped in the Targaryen banner. Unwrapping the blade, the famed flame pommel and ruby on the golden hilt made the name of the blade obvious. "This is it. Dark Sister."

"How…" Arya was lost for words.

"Jon." Robb said, flicking through the diary. "Father went to Dorne and came back with Aunt Lyanna's body and Jon. That's not a coincidence." He found a page that left him lost for words. "They were married…"

"What?" Arya asked, snatching the book. "But… that means…"

"Jon is Rhaegar Targaryen's trueborn son." Robb said, the information truly flooding in. "He isn't our brother."

"Yes, he is." Arya snapped, standing up angrily. "Jon will ALWAYS be our brother! I don't care who fucked who to make him, he was raised our brother, he always was our brother!"

She stormed off towards the exit at the outburst, leaving Robb sat alone by the torchlight reading the diary to try and piece together everything that happened to his Aunt.

* * *

Durran had come to the conclusion that childbirth was something he was only willing to be a part of when it was his wife going through it. Thankfully, as Daenerys was with Maester Fernar, the man that had patched Jaime up, assisting Nymeria Sand with giving birth, he had been called to the Throne Room as a small party from House Roxton arrived in the Capital. His entire Kingsguard bar Ser Balon was in the room either side of the Throne.

20 men bearing the golden chains on a cyan banner of House Roxton entered the Throne Room and they made their way towards the Throne. Durran sat forwards, making sure his ornate crown stayed atop his head as the newcomers all kneeled before him.

"Stand." Durran told them, as the men did as bid.

"Your Grace, may I present Ser Jonothor Roxton of House Roxton. Thirdborn son of Lord Darnis Roxton." Maester Hothar announced.

"Ser Jonothor." Durran greeted. "Welcome to King's Landing."

"It is an honour to be hear, Your Grace." Ser Jonothor bowed his head slightly. "My Father was surprised to hear from you, but he sends his regards, and he reaffirms that he is yours to command."

"Yes, Bound by Oath are your words, are they not?" Durran remembered.

"They are, Your Grace." Jonothor nodded. "Which is the reason I am here. I have been granted the honour of wielding our ancient family sword, Orphan-Maker for the coming Winter."

This caught Durran's full attention. "You have the sword?" He asked, standing up. Ser Jonothor nodded, unsheathing the blade and holding it horizontally in his outstretched hands. Durran walked down the steps, followed by Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan who had their hands on their blades, as the King went to hold the blade. "May I?" Jonothor nodded, allowing Durran to take the blade. The handle was a dark brown, with a silver thin, rounded guard and pommel design showing the chains of House Roxton. The blade itself was the darkest steel Durran had ever seen. "An extremely beautiful blade."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Jonothor said. "It is our pride and joy."

"Rightfully so." Durran nodded. "And now that it is back out in the open, it shall see some valuable use. Valyrian Steel blades will be extremely important in the next battles."

"If I may, Your Grace." Jonothor began nervously. Durran nodded at him to continue. "Is it really true? The letter asking for men for the wall seemed rather fanciful. My Mother was sure it was silly Northern superstitions."

Durran chuckled darkly and handed the man his sword back. "I'll admit, I've not seen them myself, but I know the men that have. Lord Stark believes enough to personally come and tell me, and the words of the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch are haunting. They are not men to make up fanciful tales for no reason."

Jonothor gulped. "My Father was right to answer the call then. Whenever he was questioned he reminded us all of our words. He has requested I join the Night's Watch and I agree with him. All of us here have volunteered for the Wall, unless your request for us to come to King's Landing was to join Your Grace personally."

Durran was slightly surprised. "Valyrian Steel is the key to defeating the White Walkers, that and obsidian seems to be the only substance capable of killing them. We only have one sword at the Wall made of Valyrian Steel so if you wish to join the Watch, then allow me to provide you with a ship from the Royal Navy. The sacrifice your oath will bring will never be forgotten by myself, nor the court."

Jonothor looked proud at the statement. "It is my honour to serve you in this manner, Your Grace."

Durran offered his hand out, which was duly shaken by each of the twenty men in turn. "Ser Podrick will show you to the kitchens for some food and to your chambers. For as long as you like, you are guests of House Baratheon." He said afterwards. Durran noticed a guard dressed in the Baratheon yellow leather armour in the gallery speaking with his Mother, and quickly wrapped up the meeting, allowing the Roxton men to leave the Throne Room before joining them. "What's going on."

Cersei nodded to the guard. "The baby has been born." He announced. "But there's a problem."

* * *

Durran rushed over to the room that Nymeria had been moved too and found the door was open. Gingerly entering the darkened room, he noticed Daenerys holding a small bundle.

"A girl." She told him softly. "A healthy Valyrian baby girl."

Durran looked down to see a pale baby with a small silver tuft of hair on her head. "Then what was the problem?" Dany nodded over at the bed, where Maester Fernar was walking away from the prone form of Nymeria, his robes covered in blood.

"The placenta seems to have torn away too early." The Maester said. "There's nothing I can do now, she has moments."

Durran couldn't even bring himself to be relieved at the last remnants of House Martell's demise. He walked over to the bed and knelt before the dying woman. "I'm sorry." Was all he could say.

Nymeria let out a pained grin. "She will live. Elia will live and once she finds out your role in Dorne's destruction, you shall rue the day you killed us all."

Durran tried not to let his anger cloud him, and softly said with a hint of steel in his voice. "She will be brought up as a true Targaryen with her cousins. Be thankful I do not blame children for their parent's crimes as you did. Go forth to the afterlife knowing that she shall be brought up knowing your crimes."

Nymeria's eyes slowly shut as her breath left her. Durran himself closed his eyes and prayed to the Stranger to be kind to Nymeria as he himself couldn't be in life. Getting to his feet, he re-joined Dany.

"Her poisonous words won't harm the child." Dany vowed. "Elia…"

"No." Durran interrupted. "I'm not naming her after a Martell. Give her a Targaryen name. Whichever one you like."

"Nymeria named her Elia." Dany reminded him.

"Nymeria was a traitor." Durran shook his head. "No, she wants that name to spite our reign and I won't allow it. Choose a name of your own House for the baby."

"As you wish, husband." Dany agreed. She looked down at the baby and stroked her chick. "Rhaena. Rhaena Targaryen."

Durran nodded, kissing Dany on the cheek. "I'll go and see to Elaenor if you like while you sort arrangements out for Rhaena."

Dany nodded. "I'll sort things out for my niece, go and see to our daughter."

Nodding, Durran turned and left the room eager to get away from the product of Viserys and Nymeria Sand. While it was true he didn't blame the baby for her parents' actions, for now all he could see in her was Viserys' smug face at their parlay, and it wasn't fair on the child to have him react angrily to her.

* * *

It had been a week after Stannis had arrived at Castle Black and so far, the new recruits had been separated out swiftly. Gendry having settled into assisting Donal Noye extremely well.

Unfortunately, having so many new recruits meant that it was a necessity to open the other castles along the Wall much faster than he had originally planned, and even though it was extremely late at night, Jon was signing what seemed like dozens of papers letting both Robb, Durran, and the other commanders of Night's Watch castles know that these castles were to soon be inhabited.

Out of nowhere, his door burst open. "Lord Commander!"

"Olly? It's late…" Jon began.

"One of the Wildlings you brought back. He says he knows your Uncle Benjen!" Olly began. Jon stopped everything in shock, and slowly stood up.

"Are you sure he's talking about Benjen?" He asked.

Olly nodded. "Says he was First Ranger. Says he knows where to find him."

That was enough for Jon. Picking up Longclaw in order to persuade the man to freely give up the information, he rushed out of the room and down the steps where Ser Alliser was waiting for him.

"Man says he saw your Uncle at Hardhome before the attack." Ser Alliser said.

"He could be lying." Jon doubted, not wanting to get his hopes up.

"Could be." Alliser agreed. "There are ways to find out."

"Where is he?" Jon asked, determined.

Alliser pointed beyond a group of Black Brothers. "Over there."

Pushing through the men and preparing to unleash his Northern anger upon the Wildling for keeping the information, he halted. There was no man in front of him, just a wooden cross with the word traitor carved into it.

The cogs began to turn in Jon's mind. It was a coup, the fact that Ser Alliser was involved guaranteed that. Unsheathing Longclaw, Jon swivelled around ready to fight, only for the breath to be knocked out of him as soon as he had turned, as Ser Alliser's knife found its way into Jon's chest.

Gasping and stepping backwards, Jon felt the knife be ripped out of him and his tunic dampen as blood poured from the wound. "Traitor…" He gasped.

"You're the traitor, Lord Snow." Alliser mocked. "Allying with our enemies, allowing them through the Wall to fuck us from behind! This is to protect us, this is for the Watch."

"The Walkers…" Jon began.

"We'll fight them off too." Ser Alliser said confidently. Jon shook his head.

"You've doomed us all." He wheezed. Another man stepped forwards with a knife that Jon recognised as Othell Yarwick. He brought Longclaw up to defend himself before swiping out with the Valyrian Steel blade, catching Yarwick in the stomach and spilling his guts to the floor. More knifes came forward then, as Jon swung Longclaw with all he had, managing to kill a few more men before a knife found his knee and he fell to the floor. That was it. Longclaw fell from his hands as knifes entered his front, his sides, his back, stabbing after stabbing. In the end, Jon could barely feel the blades. His eyes began to close as he thought of Ygritte's flame kissed hair.

' _Avenge me, my love._ ' Jon thought, as consciousness left him for a final time.


	37. Growing Strong

Gendry had never been one to sleep easily. He always found the sound of hammering steel soothing, and so whenever the bustle of King's Landing got too much for the apprentice he found himself back in the shop continuing his work. The same was happening at Castle Black, as the new knight was woken by the howling of a wolf.

Putting on his thick, black cloak Gendry made his way down to the anvils, but the howling grew even louder. Cursing, Gendry looked in the direction of the noise, only to see bodies on the floor across the courtyard.

"Fuck!" Gendry cried, as he grabbed his Father's Warhammer and ran over to the corpses. He didn't recognise many of them, but the First Builder was on the floor, his guts outside of his body, and the Lord Commander was lying on his back littered with stab wounds, with so much blood pooling around him it was melting the snow.

More footsteps could be heard behind him, as well as a few voices crying out that it was the Lord Commander. Jon Snow's friend Grenn was the first to halt beside him.

"Jon…" He gasped, before turning to Gendry and gripping him by the cloak. "What happened?" He demanded to know.

"I don't know… I just found them like this!" Gendry insisted.

"We have to move him." A ginger man said calmly. "He cannot stay here."

"What happened though?" Grenn repeated the question.

Ed Tollett clenched his teeth, snarling. "Thorne. It has to be."

"We need to move." The ginger said once more. "To Lord Snow's chambers."

Gendry agreed, motioning to Grenn to pick up Jon's legs. The two strong men hoisted Jon up and quickly made their way into the Lord Commander's chamber, clearing the desk quickly and placing Jon's body onto it. Ed bolted the door with a wooden plank.

"He'll pay for this." Ed growled. "Thorne will pay."

"The wolf." Gendry said. "We need the wolf. King Durran told me how formidable Lord Stark's was. If it comes to a fight, we need the wolf."

"I'll go." Grenn nodded, picking up the keys from the floor. He gave one last look at Jon before unsheathing his sword, allowing some of the loyal Night's Watch members to open the door and quickly lock it behind him.

"I'll kill him for this." Ed snarled again. "And his lackeys. All of them."

"Who else can we trust?" Gendry asked. Ed scoffed.

"Trust?" He looked around. "The men in this room. Perhaps Donal Noye."

"He's crippled, we shouldn't involve him." Gendry sighed. He counted the other men in the room. "7 men against Thorne and the rest of Castle Black. I don't like those odds."

Ed laughed bitterly. "We won't live beyond tonight, we're in the wrong room for that. We fight though, and we take Thorne and as many of those cunts that murdered Jon with us."

"A brave plan, but foolish." The ginger said.

Ed narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"A friend. I swear." The man said, holding his hands up. "But who else owe their lives to Jon Snow? We don't have to die when we can have the larger numbers."

"The Wildlings." Ed nodded, understanding.

"We need to act fast." The ginger said. "Thorne won't be content without Jon's body."

Ed nodded. "Keep him safe until I'm back." He told the others. They all agreed, and Ed was the next man to leave before the door was bolted shut.

Gendry gripped his hammer tighter as the reality of the situation settled in. He looked over at Jon's body, and felt bile rise to his throat at the number of holes in his armour. The ginger brother was staring down at the body as well, seemingly chanting something in a language that Gendry didn't understand. "What are you doing?" Gendry asked.

"Praying." Was the only response.

* * *

**305 AC**

Staring into the gardens of the Red Keep from his Mother's chambers, Durran was keeping a close eye on Myrcella taking a walk with her betrothed. Edric Dayne had arrived in the capital the day before to report that Dorne was as pacified as it was ever going to get, and to request the wedding be soon. Durran could only agree, seeing no reason now to delay.

"She won't be welcome down in Dorne." His Mother's voice came from behind him. Durran scoffed. "Go on Elaenor, go to your Father." She said to the Princess. The 17-month-old child came running up to Durran, who excitedly picked her up.

"She will be loved by all, look at her now." Durran said to Cersei while giving Elaenor his glove to play with. "The pair get on well."

They both looked down to see Myrcella show off a small smile at Edric's words. "I still don't like it." Cersei complained. "She's my daughter…"

"And I'm your son, you didn't like me marrying Dany but here you are, in love with your grandchild by that marriage." Durran grinned at Elaenor. "Your grandmother loves you, doesn't she!" He said childishly to his daughter.

"Gramma!" Elaenor exclaimed happily, causing Durran to chuckle.

"Yes." Durran nodded, looking back down at the betrothed couple. "Times are changing. Myrcella will be married after the baby is born to secure Dorne and give an alliance that House Dayne needs, Tommen is the Lord of Casterly Rock and will also soon be wed. You need to let us all grow eventually, Mother."

Cersei shook her head. "You won't be saying that when Elaenor is due to go North, or the child on its way is betrothed."

"Then I'm sure you'll remind me of this very conversation." Durran grinned again.

Elaenor was growing slightly restless in his arms. "Mama?" She asked Durran.

"Mama is with the baby. You remember Rhaena?" Durran asked her. Elaenor thought for a moment and nodded. "She's very small and Mama needs to look after her. We can go and surprise her if you want?" Elaenor let out a large squeal of excitement and nodded. Durran put her down and held a couple of fingers out for her to hold before looking back at Cersei and saying one last thing. "Myrcella is almost 15 now, I was married before then. She's ready."

He walked off slowly, allowing for Elaenor's still shaky legs to lead him away, leaving Cersei to ponder on how fast her children were growing up. She looked out at Myrcella once more and felt only pain at how happy she looked.

* * *

Later that evening Durran found himself in his chambers signing documents once more. A knock at the door interrupted him, as Ser Podrick opened the door.

"The Princess Myrcella to see you, Your Grace." The Kingsguard knight announced.

"Thank you, Podrick. Send her in." Durran said, not taking his eyes off of a document. He noticed his sister dressed in a rich lilac dress daintily walk in and sit herself down at the other side of the desk. Durran waited a second and stamped his black stag seal on the bottom of a decree to disperse more food to the North as soon as Sansa Stark was wed to Willas Tyrell. "Our Grandfather would often do this when he received visitors to assert his dominance, he would sit and do his work while his guest was sat in front of him, getting more nervous as time would pass." Durran explained. He threw the paper back onto the desk and smirked at his sister. "I cannot thank the Seven enough that I'm not like he was."

"Durran!" Myrcella exclaimed, scandalised. "Can you talk about the dead that way?"

"The dead can't hear us." Durran shrugged. "It's the living that matter."

Myrcella giggled. "You called for me?" Durran nodded, pouring Myrcella a small wine. "Mother doesn't let me drink unless it's a feast…"

"Mother isn't here." Durran told her. "It's only one cup, and you're soon to be a married woman."

Myrcella nodded, taking the goblet and having a tiny sip. "Edric and I had a lovely walk earlier. He was telling me all about Starfall. It sounds so beautiful!"

Durran smiled at how happy she sounded. "From what I hear it is, and your future sons could become as famous as Ser Arthur, or Ser Ulrick Dayne, or any of the Swords of the Morning. As soon as I heard about Dawn I wanted to wield it for years as a child." He admitted. "I know it's arranged, but I really do hope you'll be happy there."

Myrcella nodded. "I think I will be. Edric has been telling me lots about Dorne and their customs. While it's… strange… I think I'll be a good Lady."

Durran grinned and walked over to hug Myrcella. "You'll be excellent." He told her.

Blushing, Myrcella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and asked. "When will the wedding be?"

"We'll start planning it soon after the baby is born." Durran explained. "Edric will have to go back to Dorne in the meantime, but I promise it won't be long." Myrcella looked happy at the news, and that made Durran laugh a bit more. "I remember when you were obsessing over Robb Stark, and now look at you."

"I didn't obsess over him." Myrcella rolled her eyes. "He was handsome is all. As is Edric."

Durran just smirked. "Anyway, as to why I've brought you here. Tommen has written to us all; the rider came this afternoon."

Myrcella's eyes lit up. "Really? How is he?"

Durran handed over her letter. "He's fine, can you believe he's met a girl he likes?"

She couldn't. "What?" She asked, tearing into her letter. Durran let her read it as he stamped his seal on another letter, this one about a new tariff to be enforced at the docks. "Lyla Crakehall?"

"Lord Roland's granddaughter." Durran shrugged. "Ser Daven tells me that she has been spending time with him at Casterly Rock and that they now share a cat."

"Of course the way to his heart is through a cat." Myrcella groaned. "He does seem happy though…"

Durran nodded. "Daven is holding off on a betrothal for now until he can gain our opinion on it, but he will be my Warden of the West in a few years and I can't force him to do anything. Just do me one favour."

"Anything."

Durran grimaced. "Don't tell Mother. She'll fly into a rage that will make Dārys seem like a puppy."

* * *

The road to Highgarden had been long, but Sansa was excited to see the beauty of Highgarden as the Stark and Tully party rode up the hill that the castle was built upon. They entered the ornate gates to find a large procession waiting for them, reminiscent of the one that Winterfell showed for King Robert all those years ago. The main Tyrell family were stood out in front, with Lord Mace puffing his chest out proudly.

Sansa and her Mother dismounted their horses and walked up to the procession, leaving Edmure and the rest of the party to sort out the horses as they met Sansa's future family.

"Lady Sansa, Lady Catelyn. Welcome to Highgarden." Mace said proudly.

"It's our pleasure to be here, Lord Tyrell." Cat said politely.

"May I introduce my nephew, Willas." Mace said, pointing out the man stood next to him. Willas Tyrell. Sansa looked over at her betrothed, and saw a tall, skinny man dressed in fine emerald silk clothing. His cane was deeply decorated in golden stems, clearly designed to flaunt the House's wealth. Sansa stepped forward and curtseyed.

"My Lord." She said politely. "I hope I am not a disappointment to you."

Willas smiled, leaning on his cane. "My Lady, you are a true beauty. It is I who would seem the disappointment I am sure."

"Not at all, My Lord." Sansa smiled shyly. They smiled at one another for a few moments before some coughing was heard.

"Yes, yes. Now that the two have met can we get on with it." Lady Olenna Tyrell grumbled. "I'm too old to be standing outside for so long."

Mace looked outraged at his Mother's outburst, but a female voice that Sansa was delighted to hear spoke up too. "Yes, Grandmother is right Father. Lyonel could do with some refreshments as it is and I'm sure our guests are hungry."

Mace nodded. "Very well. Lady Stark, Lady Sansa. Lord Tully. Allow me to welcome you to Highgarden once more and I shall have you shown to your chambers. We shall feast in an hour!" He cried excitedly.

The crowd began dispersing, and Margaery herself came and greeted Sansa properly afterwards. "It is so good to see you again!" Margaery beamed.

"And you, My Lady. A wife and a Mother since we last met." Sansa giggled. "We have lots to catch up on."

"And plenty of time tonight to do so." Margaery smiled. "Thank you for agreeing to wed tomorrow. I understand how overwhelming it must be having only just arrived, but with Loras and Garlan both passing so suddenly… Father feels it best to not wait."

Sansa nodded, nerves appearing in her mind, although she masked it well. "From your words about Lord Willas I'm eager to be wed to him."

Margaery grinned once again. "As he is to you. I shouldn't tell you this, but he wasn't sure that this day would ever come after his injury. It does leave him quite immobile most of the time."

Sansa felt bad for him. "Does it pain him?"

Margaery nodded. "Yes, my cousin often locks himself in the library or the falconry for days in order to limit is movement."

There had been one question that Sansa had been too afraid to ask her Mother, and as Margaery and Sansa walked on ahead of the others in the bridal party, Sansa built up the courage to ask. "Does that mean he can't bed me?" She whispered.

Margaery grinned, feigning embarrassment. "Sansa!" She whispered. "That's not very ladylike!"

"I'd just like to know what to expect." Sansa grinned innocently.

Margaery laughed. "A few years after his accident, I remember Grandmother asking me to summon him. I went to his rooms and Willas was rather intimate with his own hands… You won't be dissatisfied I can assure you, although you may have to be the more active in the bedroom."

Sansa began to glow crimson as the thoughts flew through her mind. She knew what to expect and the different ways she could please her future husband thanks to conversations with Roslin before she left, but to speak so brazenly with her betrothed's family was a new thrill for her.

Margaery soon halted and pointed to a number of doors. "You have been allocated this wing for yourself and your guests. Tomorrow though you'll sleep in the heir's chamber, and you'll truly be family!" Margaery said excited. "I must see to my son now, but I'll see you soon for the feast."

Sansa nodded, hugging her friend once more before she was left alone in the room with Lady, who was now getting to be rather big. Sitting on the bed and taking a deep breath, Sansa patted the sheets to allow Lady to jump up, and the Stark girl cuddled into her wolf, readying herself for the coming days.

* * *

The wedding breakfast had been long and filled with ornate gifts given to Sansa by various members of Reach nobility, receiving things like a beautiful horse from House Appleton, ten crates of the Arbor's finest red wine from House Redwyne, and the Shield Island Lords had even gathered together to build Sansa a modest ship. Not eating a great deal due to nerves, she felt slightly hungry as she stood next to her uncle Edmure ready to enter the Rose Sept. Her dress trailed behind her, with blue winter roses decorating the fine white silk. A light Direwolf head merging into the flowers along her back, a true declaration of Sansa's changing name.

Holy music flared louder and Edmure looked down at her, her uncle giving her away on behalf of Robb. "Are you ready?" He asked.

Sansa sighed. "Not really, but I'll do my duty." She said quietly. Edmure smiled sadly and patted her hand linked with his arm.

"It will be over soon, and hopefully Willas can give you some sons and daughters to love and make your time hear easier." Edmure said, trying to be helpful. Sansa nodded, and the pair walked into the large sept.

It was crammed with fancily dressed Lords and Ladies, as the nobility of the reach all wished to catch a glimpse of their future Lord and Lady. Sansa noticed her Mother at the front and gave her a small smile as she passed, before allowing Edmure to hand her over to Willas, who was doing without his cane for the occasion.

"Aren't you in pain?" Sansa whispered lightly, as the Septon continued his prayers.

"Considerably." Willas grimaced. "But I want to be wed to you as a man, not a cripple." Sansa respected that and gave him a large smile to show that.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon called out for Willas. He nodded, undoing his extravagant Tyrell cloak from his back. Sansa decided to make things easier for him, and turned her back on him, stepping backwards so he didn't need to move. Feeling the heavy object upon her shoulders, Sansa turned around again and saw Willas mouth his thanks to her as the Septon continued with the ritual.

"My Lord, My Ladies. We stand here tonight in the sight of Gods and men to witness the union of an and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever."

Sansa held her hand out and rested it on top of Willas' own outstretched hand, allowing the Septon to loosely wrap a green and gold ribbon around the pair of them. "Let it be known that Sansa, of House Stark, and Willas, of House Tyrell, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." The Septon cried, unwrapping the ribbon. "Look upon each other and say the words."

This was it, thought Sansa. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger." She began. "I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

And with that it was done. Applause thundered through the room as Willas was brought his cane. Sansa took his arm graciously as the newly wedded couple walked through the crowd slowly, making their way through to the gardens where the feast was to be held.

* * *

Robb sat at the high table, with Maester Luwin to his left as the petitioners were being seen to in turn. His mind was elsewhere as the smallfolk came asking for more space in the Wintertown, builders to rebuild some of the houses that had been left in disrepair over the long summer and all manner of things that required his attention. The day dragged on, and finally Robb was told that there was only one more petitioner left. Scratching Grey Wind behind the ears as the Direwolf lounged beneath the table, he sent for the last one to come in.

Smalljon Umber was escorted in, and Robb sat straight, his eyes staring at a man he had fought beside countless times. "Smalljon, I did not expect you in Winterfell." He said in his Lord's voice.

"I did not expect to need to come here, My Lord." The Smalljon replied darkly. "But here I am, stood before you."

"Well, what is it?" Robb asked.

"I followed you into battle in the South." The Smalljon began. "It was my duty, and I was happy to do so for your Father. I followed you to the Whispering Wood, to Riverrun, all the way down to Hayford and fought at your side many times."

"And for that I shall be forever grateful." Robb told him.

The Smalljon nodded. "And then, once the treaty was signed and we came back home, I followed you up to the Wall to fight the Wildling's that were invading. I fought a fucking giant because you asked me to hold the Wall."

Robb remembered, but didn't see where this was going. "Is there a point to this reminiscing?"

"Aye." The Smalljon said. "Umbers have been dealing with the Wildling raids for centuries. We're the furthest North so they hit us first, and we've been killing them for centuries. We're good at it. Now, after we fought and bled at the Wall against them, your brother has let them all through the gates to settle near our lands, ready to take our women and kill the rest of us! I ask you to say no. Protect your lands, your people and fight back. Drive the cunts back to where they belong."

Robb leant forwards, resting his elbows on the table. "Has your Father not spoken about what's coming? He told me all the same things you're telling me now, and I made it very clear to him why this is happening. Death marches on the Wall and the only way to stop them is to band together. Northerners, Southerners, Wildlings, the Night's Watch. All of us as one big army to drive away the coming Winter. Winter is Coming, it's been our words since Brandon the Builder helped to stop the Long Night and founded House Stark because it's a warning to the future that the dead will come back. Well now they're here."

"The Wildlings cannot be trusted!" The Smalljon was growing angry. "They'll kill us all if they could."

Robb shrugged. "Perhaps that's true, Wildlings have been a plague on the North for millennia. But now we are working as one because there's a higher threat than our petty squabbles."

"Petty?" The Smalljon asked, incensed.

"Aye, petty." Robb said firmly. "It doesn't matter who lives where, or who killed who's uncle years ago. Those things were troubles of the past. Now the only thing that matters is survival against the coming storm. Banding together in the face of the darkness. Apart we are weak."

"My Lord…" The Smalljon began, but Robb held his arm up to silence him.

"I appreciate your concern, but my decision is final." Robb said firmly. "The only problem left is what to do with you and your friend." The Smalljon looked baffled, as Robb nodded to his guard on the door. He left for a brief moment before in came two men with a tied up and bloodied Ramsay Snow. The door was quickly bolted shut as Stark soldiers surrounded the Smalljon, subduing him to his knees before Robb. The Warden of the North stood up and walked around the table to stand in front of the Smalljon, looking down at him with rage. "You come here, you flatter me with our history and our friendship while conspiring behind my back with the Bastard of Bolton to overthrow me if things didn't go your way?"

The Smalljon looked at Ramsay angrily, before attempting to shrug off his captors and failing. Looking back up at Robb he said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Robb laughed darkly. "You don't? Lord Bolton can help remind you if you like."

Out of the shadows behind Robb stepped the pale, Lord of the Dreadfort, who came up to stand by Robb's side. "Lord Stark." He nodded.

"Lord Bolton." Robb returned the courtesy. "Please, tell Smalljon Giantsbane what you told me before."

Roose Bolton looked down at the large heir to Last Hearth. "I explained that Jon Umber, heir to Last Hearth had petitioned me to start a rebellion against House Stark in defiance of your decision to let the Wildling's settle peacefully. I also explained that I had arrested him and was about to send word of this plot to Winterfell when I was told that he had escaped my dungeons with the bastard and I knew I had to come and tell you in person."

"What else." Robb demanded, pure fury in his eyes as he looked down at the Smalljon.

"I told you that he threatened to use leverage against you in the shape of your youngest brother, Rickon Stark, who he had kidnapped from the safety of his castle where Rickon had gone in good faith that he would be kept safe from any invading forces." Roose explained.

Robb allowed the accusation to hang heavy as Grey Wind got up from beneath the table and began growling menacingly at the captives. "You used my brother as a bargaining chip because of your hatred for the Wildlings. You kidnapped my brother to try and force me to go against what is best for my people and do as you wanted!"

"Lies." The Smalljon protested, but Robb backhanded him fiercely around the cheek.

"YOU DARE!" Robb roared. "YOU DARE USE MY OWN FAMILY AGAINST ME! I AM YOUR LIEGE LORD!"

"Lord Stark." Luwin whispered, and Robb started breathing deeply to calm himself down.

"Jon Umber. Ramsay Snow." Robb began, spitting venomously. "For the crime of treason, I hereby sentence you to die. Take them both away."

The Smalljon was stunned, but Ramsay began to argue. "You can't! We did nothing! Father!"

Roose just looked at the man coldly. "You are no son of mine." He told Ramsay chillingly, and all fight went out of the bastard. The two men were dragged away to the dungeons, as Robb was left to deal with his blood running hot. Roose Bolton walked up to him. "It is the right decision, Lord Stark."

"I know." Robb sighed. "Jon was my friend, and then Ramsay is your son…"

"Ramsay is an illborn monster." Roose admitted. "Do you remember my firstborn, Domeric?"

Robb nodded. "He died a few years back."

"I could never prove it, but I know Ramsay was involved." Roose explained. "He wanted power, he hated his lot in life and tried to ensure I had no other heirs to choose from. I kept him around in case of course, as I was expected to do as the last of my House, but now with Walda being pregnant and it being proved that Ramsay was involved in treason, this decision helps the both of us. Lord Umber will need to be made aware however."

Robb ran his hand through his hair. "Aye… I'll write to him tonight. Thank you, Lord Bolton, for bringing this to my attention. Your loyalty in these times means a lot. I know how difficult the situation is for all of the North."

"We beat the monsters back once before, Lord Stark." Bolton told him. "We shall do it again."

* * *

It took four hours for Thorne to try and persuade them to open the door, and then another twelve for him to get so impatient that he had ordered a man to break the door down. Gendry gripped his hammer, ready and waiting to send Thorne to meet the Stranger. Ghost was growling from beside Jon, and Grenn looked ready to hack the entire Wall down if he had to.

The thudding of the hammer on the door continued at a steady pace. "This is it." Grenn said, grinning sadistically. "Let's gut these bastards."

No sooner had he finished his sentence, an even louder thud was heard. And another. And another soon after. "Ed?" Gendry asked.

"Among others." The ginger man said cryptically, just before a loud crash was heard, and the roars of an army filled the castle.

"Attack!" He heard Thorne shout, and Gendry grinned as the Wildling's made themselves known. Swords were clashing, and the Baratheon bastard himself moved the barricade on the door and opened it to let Grenn unleash his fury on the nearest person.

Spilling out into the courtyard, Gendry noticed that the Wildling's had quickly subdued Thorne's followers, as Mance Rayder and a red-haired archer led from the front.

"Who the fuck killed him?" The red head asked angrily. "Tell me!"

"Fucking Wildlings." Thorne stated. "Snow should have killed you all when he could. He needed to be put down." The archer then gave Thorne a glare that sent chills down Gendry's spine before losing an arrow fiercely into Alliser Thorne's skull. It was so fierce a shot that Gendry had to duck himself to miss the arrow as it came rocketing through Thorne's skull and embedded itself into some wood behind him. Thorne dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Anyone else?" The woman roared out, nocking another arrow. If the sight of Thorne's body and the angry archer wasn't enough to make everybody drop their weapons, the giant growling was. Steel clattered to the floor as Ed stepped forwards.

"Lock the traitors in the cells." He scowled, and those that followed Thorne were soon escorted away to the ice cells.

Mance Rayder noticed Gendry and walked up the steps to greet him. "Where is he?" Mance asked, shaking Gendry's hand.

"Through there." Gendry pointed through the door. The woman barged past them all, slamming the door behind her. Gendry was about to go inside as well, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Best leave her too it. She was his woman." Mance said softly, causing Gendry to blush slightly.

* * *

Through the door, Ygritte dropped her bow on the floor at the sight of Jon lying there on the table. A tear dropped from her eye as she slowly walked up to him, Kneeling at the table by Ghost's feet. She took one of his hands and choked at how cold it was.

"You fucking fool." She whispered to him, stroking some of his hair behind his ear. Her hands then moved to some of the wounds on his chest, as more tears fell. "I told you, Jon Snow. I told you we should have stayed in that cave."

Making some room on the table, Ygritte climbed up where there was some space and cuddled into Jon's body, freely letting the tears fall as she mourned for him.


	38. Black of Hair

The sun rose in the North and shone brightly off of the Wall and Gendry awoke from his first sleep in days with a heavy heart. The gravity of Jon Snow's death had finally set in for him, and the thought of Arya hearing her favourite brother was dead truly upset him, although not as much as the sight of the locked door to the Lord Commander's chamber where Ygritte was still inside.

"We need to get her out." Mance Rayder said, the King Beyond the Wall was sat on the wooden steps leading up to the door. "He needs to be burned."

Gendry nodded sadly. "Mellaro has the keys." He told Mance. "I can go and get him."

"Aye, I'll talk to her." Mance sighed, letting Gendry go.

The newly knighted bastard made his way over to the cage to take him up to the top of the Wall, where the red-head kept himself now. Shivering, he held his cloak closer around his body as the winds grew fiercer the higher he went. Walking out of the cage, he walked past brother after brother trying to find the ginger, feeling relieved when he found him sitting down cross legged, seemingly meditating while facing out to the North.

"Mellaro." Gendry called. "Mellaro!"

"Come, Ser Durrande." Mellaro said, using his chosen name. "Join me."

"I'm alright back here." Gendry shook his head. "We need the key to the Lord Commander's room. We need to burn his body."

Mellaro sat rigidly for a moment before standing up and facing Gendry. "King's Blood, lovers cry." He whispered to himself. "Yes, yes we must burn him. I must speak to the girl."

Gendry was confused, but followed Mellaro down to the ground, only to be shut outside with Mance Rayder when Mellaro locked the door behind him. "What's happening?" Mance asked, and Gendry just wished he knew.

"Get out." Ygritte growled at the intruder. The man in black just smirked.

"I'm here to help." He insisted. Ygritte scoffed, looking back down at Jon's body.

"You can't help. Nobody can help." She said sadly.

"R'hllor can help." Mellaro smiled. "The Lord of Light has power that you cannot begin to imagine. He has kept me hidden here, to allow me to fulfil his wishes. He can save Jon Snow."

"Jon Snow is dead." Ygritte growled, tears forming again.

"He doesn't have to be." Mellaro told her. Stepping forward, he dropped his cloak to the floor and undid his armour, revealing a red necklace around his neck. Pressing both his hands to the ruby stone he began chanting quietly in a language that Ygritte didn't understand. The ruby glowed beneath his hands, and a ring of orange flame danced around his fingers, changing them to a daintier set. The hands changed too as the ring of fire moved up the arms, changing the black sleeves of the Night's Watch armour to deep crimson dress sleeves. The flames moved everywhere upon Mellaro's body, until in his place stood a woman dressed in a crimson dress, with bright red hair.

"What… who are you?" Ygritte asked, reaching for Longclaw.

"I am Melisandre. Priestess of R'hllor and a shadow binder from Asshai." Melisandre explained. "And if you do as I say, I can help you save Jon Snow."

* * *

The morning after the wedding Sansa met her Mother for a late brunch and had a light smile on her face as she entered the small dining room they had been given. Catelyn was reading a letter that had arrived from Riverrun for her as the newly married woman entered, but quickly placed it onto the table to greet her daughter.

"Sansa." She smiled into the girl's hair. "How are you? The first night is always strange."

Sansa let go and sat down. "I'm perfectly well Mother, Willas was very kind."

"He didn't hurt you?" Cat asked.

Chuckling while reaching for some fruit, Sansa shook her head. "Not at all. It was lovely, he was constantly ensuring I was alright. He's down at the stables today taking care of my new horse."

Cat was relieved to see how happy Sansa seemed, but her mind was still elsewhere. "I received this from Riverrun today."

"Riverrun?" Sansa asked, taking the note. She read through the letter, and her trembling hand went straight to her mouth. "They're alive?"

"Rickon's alive." Catelyn told her. "They… they don't know about Bran…"

"But they survived the burning of Winterfell." Sansa said excitedly. "Rickon's back at Winterfell. He's safe."

"I know." Cat said, shaking and tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't help but worry for Bran though. Where is he? Why did he go North of the Wall?"

"He's with Hodor and the Reeds, I'm sure he'll be fine." Sansa said, taking Cat's hands in her own. "But you should go to Winterfell soon, Rickon will need you." She said.

Cat shook her head. "You need me too, you're newly married, you'll need some home comforts for the time being."

Sansa smiled sadly, tightening her grip slightly. "Mother, Rickon hasn't seen you in nearly 5 years, he's nearly 10. I love you dearly, but he needs you more than I do right now. I have my husband, and Margaery is staying for a few months so I have a friend here to help me get used to Highgarden. Go home, be with Rickon and Bran will be home soon, I'm sure." She said, not truly thinking that of her eldest, younger brother, but knowing that it was what Cat wanted to hear.

Cat sniffed and nodded her head grateful for her daughter's words. "Very well, I'll leave in a couple of days. Enough time to get you truly settled in here."

Sansa appreciated that. "Margaery always boasted about the gardens here, we can spend the day exploring them if you like." She said excitedly.

* * *

Joffrey's statue stood strong and regal above his tomb, and Durran found himself stood before it staring up, not really knowing why he was in the Sept of Baelor staring at the image of the brother he hated. Dany was getting irritable as the birth was taking longer than expected, so Durran had needed to escape the Red Keep for a moment, his legs somehow taking him to the crypt in the Sept of Baelor.

"The image of Kings will last here for thousands of generations." A voice came from behind Durran. The Baratheon King turned around to see an elderly, bearded man dressed in a burgundy and gold robe, one of the symbols of the High Septon.

"Your holiness." Durran bowed his head in respect. "Forgive me, I did not know you had arrived."

"I was due to make my way to the Red Keep this afternoon as it were." The High Septon said, coming to stand beside Durran. "You've saved me the trouble, Your Grace. My old bones thank you."

Durran huffed out a laugh. "I don't know why I ended up here. Joffrey and I… we didn't get on."

"Siblings can be curious. Some are close as can be, but then some fight. You were unfortunate enough to be born into a position where a sibling rivalry cost the lives of thousands." The High Septon said bluntly. Durran hung his head in shame.

"On rare occasions, I wonder what life would have been like had I not gone to war to overthrow him." Durran admitted. "Whether I'd be with Daenerys, whether I'd be living in King's Landing or Dragonstone or anywhere else. But then I think of the hardships that we've faced since Joff died, and he wouldn't have led us to victory against Viserys, and he wouldn't have resisted causing problems with the Sparrows."

"Ah, the Sparrows." The High Septon nodded slowly. "Their mission was understandable, but they found themselves stuck in a time that is long past."

"Their mission was understandable?" Durran asked, annoyed. "They attacked the Kingsguard, they murdered people in the streets…"

"They looked to eradicate sin." The High Septon explained calmly. "Yet their methods belong 300 years in the past. It is my aim to work with the Crown, Your Grace. We are the representatives of the Seven, you and I, and together we can bring their teachings to the realm. Not through violence and fear, but through compassion, love and kindness. The Most Devout appointed me because of my views on cooperation with House Baratheon of King's Landing."

Durran was intrigued by the man. "For that I am grateful. There are testing times ahead of us, High Septon. Monsters lurk in the North and the dead rise with them. Have you heard the myths of the Long Night?"

The High Septon nodded. "White Walkers and ice spiders bringing forth an eternal night, where generations passed without seeing the sun. A scary tale."

"One that the Northerners believe to be coming again." Durran said, looking back up at Joffrey's statue. "I understand that my words sound mad, but I trust the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who has seen the White Walkers with his own eyes. I trust Lord Stark, who has marshalled the North in preparation for an invasion from beyond the Wall. Something has the largest Kingdom standing uneasy, and I can't afford to ignore that."

The High Septon agreed. "The teachings of the Lord of Light say that there are two deities. A Lord of Light, and a Lord of Darkness. Volantene scholars claim that the Lord of Darkness is the source of the Long Night. I cannot begin to explain how rare it is that two parts of the world have legends that are so similar. That alone leads me to believe that something happened long ago to scare the entire world."

"You know the teachings of the Red Priests?" Durran asked, surprised.

The High Septon grinned. "Before I was a Septon, I was a librarian in a castle and in my spare time I studied all religion. All corners of the world believe something different, but in many the ancient stories and myths can overlap somehow. I made it my aim to understand how the differing religious groups thought. Oh, the Seven are the true Gods of that there is no denial, but these people have believed different for thousands of years, what if there is some truth in their legends?"

Durran thought for a moment. "Daenerys' priestess spoke about Azor Ahai often."

The High Septon nodded. "The hero that brought back the dawn."

"She said that Dany was Azor Ahai reborn. Born amidst salt and smoke." Durran explained.

The High Septon nodded. "There is power in prophecy, Your Grace. Your words have me believe that something is coming."

"The people need to be prepared." Durran said to himself aloud. "I've put out a call for men to join the Night's Watch, but more needs to be done."

The High Septon took Durran's hand in his own. "By the power of the Seven, the word shall be spread by their chosen. All that bask in the Crone's candlelight shall find their way to the truth of the coming storm. Those under the Warrior's blade shall unsheathe their own in defence of the living. We shall prevail, Your Grace."

* * *

It had been a turbulent few days after the arrest of the Smalljon and Ramsay Snow, with Robb having to discuss arrangements with Roose Bolton for an ongoing inquest into Ramsay's actions, as well as spending time with the newly returned, and restless Rickon Stark. The loss of Shaggydog had hit him hard, so Robb had been more than happy to let Rickon sit in the Godswood with Osha and Grey Wind, hoping that the Direwolf could help ease some of Rickon's pain.

In fact, it was Brandon that was helping Rickon the most, the youngest of Robb's siblings taking to the child almost immediately. Roslin believed that having a family member younger than the 10-year-old had helped him to mature a little bit, and the Warden of the North was eager to exploit that as much as he could to help his brother along.

The three Starks were swimming in the hot springs, with Robb keeping a tight hold of the clothes less Brandon as he excitedly splashed around the hot water. "I remember Father doing this with you after you were born." Robb told his brother.

"Really?" Rickon asked.

"Aye, you weren't much older than Brandon is, and Mother was terrified at the thought of him dropping you." Robb chuckled at the memory. "She even braved the Godswood to keep an eye on him."

"When's she coming back?" Rickon asked. Robb's face grew solemn once more.

"Soon, she'll soon leave Highgarden and if all goes well, she'll be back within the month." Robb told him. "She's eager to see you, I swear it." Rickon didn't look convinced, instead he began to make faces at the baby. Robb shook his head amusedly before he noticed Arya walking towards them from the direction of the castle. "Come, Rickon. We should get inside, it's looking likely to snow heavier today." He told his brother. Rickon grumbled but got out of the water to dry off. Robb followed as Arya reached them.

"Father used to do that with Rickon." She reminisced.

"Aye, he did with you and all." Robb told her. Arya looked thoughtful but handed a raven note to Robb. "From Last Hearth."

Dread filled Robb. He handed Brandon over to Osha before drying his hands and taking the letter still bare chested and bare footed. He read over it twice before deciding what to do. "Take Brandon to Lady Roslin." He told nobody in particular, noticing Arya reach for her nephew. "I need to give our guest a visit."

He quickly got changed, until lastly, he strapped his sword to his waist and strode towards the dungeons, being flanked by two guards as soon as he left the sanctuary of the Godswood. He ignored the mad calls of Ramsay Snow as Robb passed his cell, and soon came to the one that housed the Smalljon, who was barefooted, and dressed in rags.

"Lord Stark." He mocked. "It's a bit cold in here, have you a cloak for me?"

"That's what I'm here to offer you." Robb admitted. "I've a raven here from your Father."

The Smalljon's eyes moved in a way Robb couldn't quite make out in the dark. "The old fucker still hasn't died then. Pity."

Robb ignored the insult to his best general and threw the raven scroll through the bars. "He's livid at you for kidnapping a Stark and for killing a Direwolf. There is only one way that he won't attaint you."

"The Wall." The Smalljon read out angrily. "The old cunt wants me to take the fucking black!"

"It's that or death." Robb stated firmly.

The Smalljon shook his head. "I'm dead already with your wildling fucking bastard brother in charge." He sighed. "No, I can't swear an oath to serve the Wildling's. Take my head, Lord Stark and use it as a goblet. I don't fucking care. Mark my words though, those Wildling savages will betray us and kill us all, and it will be your fault."

Robb wanted to punch the man for his ignorance but kept his composure. "Very well, then on behalf of Jon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth. I, Robb of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North do sentence you to die tomorrow. You are hereby stripped of your titles and disinherited from the Umber name. Make your last requests Jon, tomorrow will be the last dawn you ever see."

* * *

This time when Dany went into labour there was no Small Council meeting to distract Durran. Instead he had found himself pacing outside of their chambers for around two hours before Maester Fernar had come out and told him to leave. Jaime had taken him outside to spar, but it hadn't been long until Myrcella came running outside to meet them.

"Durran!" She had called. "The baby is almost here!"

That had done it, as the King unceremoniously dropped his sword and sprinted back into Maegor's Holdfast towards his bedchamber, where Cersei was waiting with Elaenor outside.

"Mother." He greeted, panting. Elaenor came running up to him, so he scooped her up in his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"The baby is here, Durran." Cersei smiled. "They'll call for you in a moment."

Nervously, Durran nodded and turned to his daughter. "You stay with Grandmother for now alright? I need to go and check on Mother soon."

Elaenor nodded, as Durran handed her over to Cersei, who had captured the toddlers imagination with a toy lion. A few moments later, Maester Fernar called him into the room.

The curtains were open, and a steady stream of light was shining onto the bed where Dany was sat up, a bundle of gold blankets in her arms. Durran slowly walked over and sat at her side. Inside the cloth was a rather large new-born, with a tuft of black hair on its head.

"We have a son." Dany exclaimed emotionally, her voice quiet and tired. "A baby boy."

Durran couldn't help the grin that formed on his face. "A boy." He repeated quietly. "Thank you." He whispered, as he leant in to capture Dany's lips softly with his own. He broke contact and pulled his attention to the baby. Dany held him out, and Durran took the bundle, settling it in his cradled arms. Opening the blanket a tiny amount he saw more of his child's face, who grew slightly unhappy at the cool air he was now exposed too. Chuckling, Durran wrapped him back up, and placed a kiss on his forehead. "He is perfect."

"He was huge." Dany groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "Why was I cursed to love a Baratheon, your babes are always so big."

"We're strong." Durran grinned. Turning back to Dany, he asked. "Have you thought of any names?"

Dany nodded. "Something less Valyrian than we had for Elle considering he is to be King one day, but I was reading with Myrcella one day and came across the story of how my Grandfather came to be heir to the Unlikely."

Durran remembered his lessons and saw where this was going. "You want to name him after the Prince of Dragonflies?"

The Queen nodded. "I do. Is that ok?"

Durran thought for a moment, before smiling. "Duncan Baratheon, I like it." He looked down to the new-born. "Hello Duncan, would you like to meet your sister?"

The baby just continued to sleep, much to Durran's amusement. "I'll go and show him to everyone outside and then bring Elle in, if that's alright with you?"

Dany just nodded, settling into a more comfortable position as Durran stood up and walked over to the door, baby in one arm. Opening it, he noticed there were more people gathered around than when he entered, as Myrcella and Jaime had joined Cersei in the corridor outside.

"Everyone." Durran announced softly. "Meet Prince Duncan Baratheon."

Myrcella was the loudest reaction, her cooing over the baby drowning out all congratulations from the Lannister twins. "He's adorable!" She began, her voice going extremely high. "Hello baby. Hello Duncan." Durran passed the baby to Cersei, who was beaming down at the baby boy.

"He's gorgeous." Cersei told him, as Duncan took her finger in his hand. "And strong." She laughed.

"He's a true Baratheon, Your Grace." Jaime said, and gave Durran a respectful nod. The King knew Jaime's views on Robert, so the mark of respect meant a lot.

"I'm going to take Elle in to be with her Mother, but I promise we will all eat together soon, and you can meet Duncan properly." Durran told them, taking back the baby and holding another hand out for Elaenor to hold. "Ser Jaime, if you can stand guard."

"Of course, Your Grace." Jaime nodded, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"Do we have to go?" Myrcella complained, stroking Duncan's cheek.

Cersei held her arm out for Myrcella to cling to. "Come, sweetling." She said to her daughter. "We'll see the little Prince soon."

"That you will." Durran nodded, kissing his sister on the cheek quickly. "He'll need clothing, and there is nobody in the Seven Kingdom's that has better needlework than you do Cella."

Myrcella shook her head amusedly. "Sansa Stark for one, but I'd love to make him something." She said, taking Cersei's arm. "Bye Duncan." She cooed once more before the two women left the corridor.

Picking up Elaenor in one arm and holding Duncan in the other, Durran was let back into the chamber and made his way back over to his wife, setting the baby down in her arms. "You need to be gentle." He told Elaenor. "Mama is tired and the baby is small, do you understand?"

Elaenor nodded. "Gentle." She said quietly. Durran ruffled her hair with a smile and set her down on the bed as well, and the toddler crawled over to sit with Daenerys. "Mama!" She said happily.

"Hello Princess." Dany said happily, cuddling her daughter. "Have you said hello to your brother?"

Elaenor shook her head, and so Dany shifted her body so that Elaenor could truly see baby Duncan. "Hi." She said shyly.

The bells of the Sept of Baelor began playing the tune that announced a new heir to the throne as Elaenor was saying hello to her new brother, and Durran went and stood on the balcony, grinning away as the reality settled in to his mind. He had a son and heir. Turning back, he saw Daenerys looking at him quizzically. "I'm going to be better than my Father." He vowed, to both Daenerys and to himself. "I'm going to raise this boy myself as best I can. He will never go a day feeling unloved or neglected."

Dany smiled. "You'll be amazing, My King." She patted the bed next to Elaenor, and Durran took the hint and went to lie down with his family. Grabbing Elaenor and sitting her on his stomach, the four of them listened to the music of the bells and welcomed the new heir of the Seven Kingdom's to the world.

* * *

Hundreds of people were gathered around the courtyard of Castle Black as Jon Snow's body was laid out on a pyre in the centre. Gendry stood next to Ed and Grenn, as they listened to Mellaro give a long-winded speech about Jon's achievements and history. He could see Grenn getting annoyed and could understand, not knowing if he could go through all this ceremony if Arya was being cremated. His attention was drawn back to Mellaro as he stated. "And now his watch has ended."

"And now his watch has ended." Gendry repeated with the rest of the Brothers of the Night's Watch. Mellaro bowed his head and walked towards the crowd, standing the other side of Gendry. Ygritte stepped out towards the pyre with a flaming torch, much to many men's displeasure.

"It should be one of us." Grenn said angrily through gritted teeth. "Not a wildling. Not even her."

Gendry watched on in agreement, when Ygritte pulled an arrow from her clothing and sliced her hand with it. Placing the bloodied arrow on Jon's body, she whispered gently. "We'll go back to that cave, Jon Snow." Before lighting the pyre.

Immediately, Mellaro began whispering what sounded like an incantation to Gendry in Valyrian. "What are you doing?" He whispered angrily, but Mellaro just ignored him and continued. Gendry was furious at the disrespect, but his eyes were torn back to the pyre as the flames exploded upwards in a jet of blue light. Staggering back, Gendry held his hand over his eyes to cover them.

"What the fuck is this!" Grenn screamed out.

"Necessary!" Mellaro called out. "The Lord is blessing Jon Snow!"

The flames turned from blue to black, and then to a deep shade of red as a handful of men began to run clear of the Pyre. Gendry noticed Mance trying to pull Ygritte away from the fire, but the red-head just shook him off and stayed standing, in awe of the magic.

"Lord this man was wrongfully taken, bless his life and return his light so that he may serve his purpose in the war that's coming!" Mellaro shouted, pressing his hands to his chest. Gendry stood back in a mix of awe and horror as Mellaro changed his face, becoming the Red Woman that he had seen a few times at Queen Daenerys' side before he had travelled to Dorne. "Return Jon Snow to the living to serve you, and the Great Other shall be forever defeated!" Melisandre held her hands out towards the pyre at the request, and the fire died out.

There weren't many Night's Watchmen still standing, all having either fled in terror or been knocked to the floor. Gendry was one of those standing, and he couldn't believe his eyes as on the ashy remains of the pyre sat a naked Jon Snow, breathing heavily and his eyes widened in shock.


	39. My Watch has Ended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Gruesome execution scene. It has been double line marked both before and after if you wish to skip it.

The only sounds that could be heard in Castle Black were of the howling wind battering the Wall, and the staggered, terrified breathing of the nude man sat in the middle of the pyre. Nobody else could will themselves to move, not understanding what had just happened.

Mellaro was the first one to move, taking his black cloak off and wrapping it around the shaking form of Jon. Guiding him to his feet, Jon stumbled the once, but Ygritte rushed towards him to help steady him.

"Wha… what's happening?" Jon gasped.

"You're back." Ygritte replied ecstatically. "It worked."

"Help me get him inside." Mellaro said quietly, and Ygritte nodded, as they aided Jon up to the Lord Commander's chambers, where Gendry, Edd and Grenn met them.

Nobody knew what to say. Jon was sat down in a chair, just trying to calm himself down as everyone bar Mellaro stared at him in awe. Ygritte squatted down at his side, clinging on to his hand as though she was scared that if she let go, he would die again. Eventually the silence was broken by Grenn.

"How is this possible?" He asked. "You died. I saw the wounds. Nobody could survive that… and we burned you! How…"

"The Lord of Light has blessed Jon Snow." Mellaro told them calmly. "His fire has given the Lord Commander the breath of life. This was my purpose at the Wall, and now I'm needed elsewhere." He pressed his hands to his necklace once more, and Ygritte could almost hear the mens jaws drop as Melisandre showed her female self to them all.

"I know you…" Gendry began. "You're the Queen's witch! The one that burnt all those people!

"Come." Melisandre said to the men, narrowing her eyes at Gendry. "I'll explain everything to you, but Lord Snow wishes for us to leave him alone with Ygritte." Jon looked away awkwardly at her words, as the Red Woman shepherded the men out.

Standing properly, Ygritte went and bolted the door shut. "I was dead." She heard Jon say from behind her. Turning around, she saw him shakily pour ale from his desk into a cup and down it. "I was stabbed all over by twenty knives at least. How am I here, unscathed?"

Ygritte didn't understand truly, but she walked over to him, sitting herself on his lap and running her hands up his chest. "Magic, Jon Snow. Fire magic." She whispered.

"I shouldn't be here." Jon whispered back, his voice breaking in raw emotion.

"But you are. You're alive and breathing." Ygritte told him, resting her forehead on his and sensing his worry. "You're no wight, Jon Snow. I can feel your heart." She added, moving her hand to feel his erratic heartbeat.

Jon placed his own hand over hers. "This isn't a dream, is it Ygritte?"

"No." She shook her head.

Jon sighed heavily. "I died."

"But now you're back." She told him firmly. "And those cunts that did it are dead or waiting to die."

Jon reached and had another big gulp of ale. "My own brothers…" He began getting angry. "They know what's coming, they know why I did what I did and they murdered me!"

"And they will pay." Ygritte assured him.

"I've half a mind to leave them for the Night King." Jon spat, but immediately shook his head and sighed once more. "No, I wouldn't. The less men he has the better."

"But they die." Ygritte said firmly. "When your man told us what happened Jon Snow I never felt anything like it in my life. I was just so angry, but so sad at the same time. I slept with your body all night because I didn't want to leave you. I never want to leave you again."

Jon smiled softly for the first time since he had returned. "I wish that were the case, but I swore an oath. I can't…" He trailed off, as he thought about what he was saying. " _Night gathers, and now my Watch begins. It shall not end until my death._ " He quoted.

"You died though." Ygritte said bluntly.

"My Watch has ended…" Jon whispered. "I'm free of my oath. I can leave."

Ygritte looked happy at this, but she soon frowned. "But what about the Walkers?"

Jon looked thoughtful. "Everyone here knows they're coming, but so does Robb. Me going home doesn't mean I'm abandoning the fight."

"Home?" Ygritte asked. "That fancy castle you spoke about?"

Jon chuckled. "Aye, Winterfell. With the towers bigger than that windmill. I can't stay here, Ygritte. Not after what happened."

"Then go back to Winterfell." Ygritte told him gently, not trying to hide her disappointment. "See your brother and tell me about your castle when I see you next."

"What are you talking about?" Jon asked. "You're coming with me."

"I am, am I?" Ygritte asked, poking her chest out heartily and putting on a brave face.

"Aye." Jon nodded, a smile forming. "I am yours, and you are mine. I stole you North of the Wall didn't I? So now I have no oath to hold, I can take a wife."

Ygritte couldn't help the grin. "I stole you, you mean." She pushed him on the chest.

"Well I won't let my wife out of my sight ever again." Jon told her, pressing his lips to her own.

The kiss grew more passionate as Ygritte moved to straddle Jon, her nails raking down his pecs. She pulled away for a moment, looking at him quizzically. "So am I your Lady now? Do I get a fancy silk dress?"

Jon shook his head in amusement. "No, I'm still just a bastard. I can't inherit anything. I can ask Robb to have a silk dress made though if you like. I still want to rip one off you."

Laughing at the memory, Ygritte leant in for another kiss, only to bite Jon's lip sultrily. "And I'll still blacken your eye." She whispered, plunging in for more as the two lovers lost themselves in raw passion for one another.

* * *

The Throne Room was packed to the rafters as the entire court was waiting intently for Prince Duncan Baratheon was due to be announced to them. Durran was sat on the Iron Throne uncomfortably as Pycelle was addressing the room announcing the new High Septon and a service was announced for the nobles still in the Capital which Durran remembered he was obligated to go to.

He was bored. A feast had been prepared in the Queen's Ballroom in Maegor's Holdfast and he just wanted to duck out of all this ceremony and celebrate his son's birth with those he was closest too. As Pycelle droned on he looked up to the gallery where Myrcella was carrying Elaenor, who was looking around at all the strangers in the room suspiciously.

Finally, Pycelle was finished, and Durran stood up to address the room. "To conclude today, and to finally get to the reason why you're all here…" He began with a sly glance at Pycelle, causing a low laughter from the gathered crowd. "As you are aware within the last few days Queen Daenerys successfully gave birth to a healthy and strong baby boy, Prince Duncan Baratheon. I would like you to all welcome the heir to the Iron Throne to the world and show him the same loyalty throughout his life as you show me now." He called to them as the doors opened.

Dany was flanked by two Kingsguard and she held Duncan up so those closest to the walkway had a good view of the baby. Durran could only grin down at her as she walked towards the Iron Throne and kneeled before the steps.

"The Prince, Your Grace." She said loudly, for all to here.

Durran beckoned her to rise with his hand. "Stand, my love." He told her, and she did as bid before walking up the steps to hand Duncan over to Durran and moving to sit in her own smaller throne by his side. Durran held the baby up for the court to see. "When my Father took the Iron Throne his situation was held strong by the alliance of Houses that fought with him and he had but two heirs. Prince Duncan is the heir to both House Baratheon of King's Landing, and House Targaryen. His place will be to sit on this chair once I am gone, the product of the two Great Houses of the Realm. Long live Prince Duncan!"

"Long live Prince Duncan!" The room cried out. Durran smiled, stroking his son's hair before passing him over to Dany once more.

"Join me in the Queen's Ballroom, where we shall eat and drink to the future King." Durran called out, holding his hand out prominently for Dany to take, and the Royal couple led the room towards the feasting hall.

* * *

Taking a sip of lemon water, Durran found himself laughing loudly at the obscenely drunk Mace Tyrell trying to rope Randyll Tarly into a scheme. Dany had taken the children to bed a while back and had gone to feed the three dragons. Seeing Tarly's lack of comfort, Durran nodded to Ser Arys Oakheart to take the Lord of the Reach to his bed and went over to sit by Lord Tarly.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Tarly said unhappily.

Durran grinned. "I don't know how you keep putting up with him." He said informally.

"Lord Tyrell is my Liege Lord." Tarly said gruffly. "I swore oaths."

Durran nodded. "Well, you're a more tolerable man than I, Lord Tarly."

Tarly appreciated that, and silently snuck a glance at the drink Durran had in his hands. Durran understood the silent question. "It's a feast, Lord Tarly. You can talk to me informally if you like for one night."

"You're not drinking wine." Tarly noted.

"No, I'm not." Durran said. "I'm sure you know better than I of what it turned my Father into."

Tarly let out a rare smile for the briefest of moments. "Yes, I can see why you hesitate."

Durran snorted out a laugh and looked up at his Mother who was laughing with Myrcella about something. "I loved the man as any son loves his Father, but he was cold. Perhaps his love of Lyanna Stark blinded him to his true family, or perhaps ruling killed him long before the boar did I don't know. But what he became was a weak minded man that relied more on wine than breathing. That sight there, of the Queen Mother laughing." He pointed up to her subtly. "I can't remember the last time that happened. Wine turns men into beasts, which is why I drink moderately."

Randyll Tarly could respect that. "A fair stance, Your Grace. Still, I'm not comfortable celebrating when the rumours from the North still haunt me."

Durran took a gulp and nodded. "We feel it's better to keep spirits up now when there is reason to celebrate than to just wallow in a Kingdom of misery. But I promise you, measures are being made. Ser Jonothor is on his way to the Wall to swear his oaths and give us another Valyrian Steel sword at Castle Black, and the Council of Protectors in the Vale sent word that alliances are being made to ensure that the entire nation is united after the civil war we had there recently. Lord Andar has married a member of House Melcolm, Aemma, if I remember rightly."

Randyll looked slightly appeased. "I was sorry to hear of his Father's death. Lord Yohn was a fine man and a terrific commander."

Durran nodded. "We've lost many fine people since my Father died, but many terrible ones too."

"I can drink to that." Randyll said, holding his glass up, letting Durran clink his glass to the Reachlord's.

"We'll likely lose many more." Durran told him quietly. "The way your son made these… these creatures sound. They're like nightmares."

"He always was one to embellish the truth." Randyll said bitterly. Not wanting to bring the mood down, Durran tried to change the subject, but had only opened his mouth before the doors opened, and in streamed a Gold Cloak who swiftly moved towards the Master of Laws, Ser Morton Waynwood. Keeping his eyes on the exchange, he saw Morton look up in surprise and attempt to verify something, before the Small Council member looked up at the high table, before finding Durran. The Valeman made his way towards them.

"Ser Morton." Durran greeted.

"Your Grace… The Goldcloaks…" Morton said, in clear disbelief.

"Spit it out man." Randyll snapped.

Morton gave Tarly a glare before returning his gaze to the King. "Lamentation."

"The Valyrian Steel sword of House Royce?" Durran asked.

"Yes." Morton said, shakily. "We've found it."

* * *

Durran wasted no time in gathering a guard and rushing over to the Dragonpit, where he was met with Dany stood beside Rhaellar. The dragon growled at the newcomers, but shook her large head and took to the skies to join her siblings.

"I doubt I'll ever get used to them." Jaime said from behind him. "Still, I'm glad they're on our side…"

"They're agitated." Dany explained, leading Durran towards the steps to the bowels of the pit. "All this digging around in the ruins upsets them."

"If we've truly found it, then we'll stop." Durran said urgently.

"This way." Dany nodded, leading them further underground. "There are tunnels all the way through Rhaenys' hill. Dozens of feet tall with massive rooms for the dragons to be kept locked away. It seems barbaric."

"Dragons didn't understand that the people of the city weren't food." Randyll Tarly said gruffly. "Locking them up kept the Targaryen's in power."

Durran nodded. "Yes, we're lucky that whatever ritual you used to hatch them binds them to you in ways I truly do not understand."

"Perhaps." Dany told them. "Anyway, during the Dance thousands stormed these walls and killed a number of dragons. Many died, and the pit was set aflame, with cave ins killing more dragons." They got to some more steps leading downwards. "Be careful here, the rocks from the cave ins are unstable."

She led them all single file downwards for multiple floors, and Durran saw that the Gold Cloaks had carved walkways into every corridor possible. Further and further down they walked, when a gathering of Gold Cloaks were found standing outside one of the cell like chambers. Pushing their way through the group, Durran's eyes widened in shock. The skeleton of a slender but very large dragon was laid awkwardly on the ground, covering skeletons of many men, a few wearing horribly rusted armour with eroded swords. One sword however, was a two-handed greatsword without a hint of wear and tear on it with a bronze handle that glowed in the torchlight. The hilt and blade were covered in runes that Durran had only ever seen once before on the banner of House Royce.

"This is Dreamfyre." Dany whispered, in awe. She moved her hands along the skull of the dragon. "Slender but mighty, that died in the Storming of the Dragonpit."

"And this is Lamentation." Durran told them, bending down to pick up the sword. Holding the greatsword up in one hand, he ran his thumb along the edge, wincing as his finger was cut. He could only laugh though.

"What's funny?" Dany asked, concerned. She took his hand and kissed his thumb, sucking up some of the blood.

"How long ago was the Storming?" Durran asked.

"175 years, Your Grace." Ser Morton answered.

"175 years." Durran repeated, holding the blade up in utter amazement. "175 years this sword has been down here, hidden. Nobody to take care of it and nobody to use it and the blade is still sharp. It's incredible."

Durran kept his eyes on the blade, bringing the torchlight to show the runes clearer. "What would you have us do, Your Grace?" Jaime asked.

Durran turned to the crowd. He looked at some of the faces under Gold Cloak helmets. "Ser Morton. Is there a man you trust implicitly here?"

Morton looked around and nodded. "Ser Daris Dunstable."

The man stepped forward and fell to his knee in front of Durran. "Your Grace."

"Stand." Durran told him. "I want you to gather three others and sail for Runestone. You are only to speak to Lord Andar, do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace." The man bowed his head. "What… what am I to tell him?"

Durran thought for a moment. "That House Baratheon has recovered his family's sword and freely gives it back, and that he is to remember this when I call the Vale to arms." He handed the man the sword and one of his Father's old sigil rings. "Hand this to the harbourmaster and tell him that the King commands him to find you a ship tonight. This sword never leaves your possession until you hand it directly to Lord Andar."

"Of course, Your Grace." Ser Daris bowed again. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Durran grinned and patted the man on the shoulder. "May the Gods grant you speed, Ser."

Daris bowed his head once more and made his way out of the ruins, and Jaime came over to Durran as Dany tied a ribbon around his thumb to stem the bleeding. "So, we have another sword." Jaime whispered.

"Six in our allies possessions." Durran grinned, holding Dany into his chest excitedly. "We might actually stand a chance."

* * *

In the North, a couple of ravens required Robb Stark's attention. The first from Last Hearth, requesting that the body of the Smalljon be burned in Winterfell as the Greatjon had no wish to see it. Robb felt bad for his friend and agreed immediately. The second bit of news actually put a wide grin on the solemn Lord's face.

"My Lord?" Luwin asked.

"Balon Greyjoy is dead." Robb said happily. "Slipped from a rope bridge and plunged to his death in a storm." Maester Luwin didn't share the enthusiasm, and Robb noticed. "You disapprove?"

"Forgive me, Lord Stark." Luwin said. "As a Maester I'm sworn to protecting life. Death is one thing I can't find enjoyment in, although I will admit, I will not mourn him, nor what his Ironborn did to the North."

Robb nodded, placing his hand on Luwin's shoulder. "The fact that you survived is incredible. The Gods were truly kind. This changes everything however, with Balon dead the Ironborn will have to ignore the mainland and choose a new ruler. That could take months."

A knock at the door came, and a guard opened it. "Lord Bolton to see you, My Lord."

"Send him in." Robb announced, turning to Luwin once more as Roose walked in. "Send word to Lord Robett to thank him for the news. He will be more delighted than us I can bet."

"My Lord." Luwin bowed, leaving the room. Roose watched the elderly Maester as he went and looked at Robb quizzically.

"Balon Greyjoy is dead." Robb told him, handing Roose the letter. The Bolton Lord read it and nodded.

"That is good news." Roose admitted. "Especially given what I've just been told. My investigation into the bastard has dug up some interesting things."

"Like what?" Roose asked.

"Like the capture and mutilation of Theon Greyjoy." Roose told him.

* * *

The pair made their way into the dungeons once more, again ignoring the calls of Ramsay Snow and towards the cell that Roose had had Theon put into. Robb took his time in looking through the bars, remembering his friend from before, but also remembering the traitor that had sold him out and had brought an invasion into Robb's own home.

He finally looked up, and what he saw horrified him. Theon was curled up in one of the corners of the cell, rocking himself back and forth whispering to himself. His hair was a mess, his eyes looked haunted, and his bare feet had scarred over holes through them.

"Theon." Robb said firmly. The Greyjoy man looked up at him, terrified.

"No. No, no Theon. Only Reek. I am Reek, it rhymes with freak." Theon babbled. "Reek, Reek, Reek."

"Theon!" Robb roared. Theon stopped talking, tears in his eyes as he looked up at Robb, shaking his head.

"The Bastard had him tortured." Roose explained.

"Yes, I can see that." Robb snapped. "Did you know?"

Roose shook his head. "I swear to you, Lord Stark. I did not."

Robb turned his attention back to his old friend. "Unlock the door." He told a guard, who did as bid. Robb walked into the cell, and Theon just tried to scramble further back into the corner, scraping his back on the stone wall.

"No. No no no no no." Theon mumbled, his voice shaking in sheer terror.

"Listen to me." Robb said gently. "You were my friend. My best friend, and you betrayed me. I sent you because I trusted you, and you stabbed me in the back."

"Sorry. Reek is sorry, sorry sorry." Theon cried.

"Sorry doesn't bring back Ser Rodrik, or Mikken, or any of the Northmen that died because of you." Robb told him. "You know, for years I dreamed of killing you. I imagined it all sorts of ways, from simply beheading you, to letting you rot in a gibbet until the crows devoured your flesh, to opening your belly and hanging your guts on the Weirwood as the Northmen of old did. One dark night I even imagined Lord Bolton flaying you."

Theon openly wept at the mention of flaying. "Not again. No, Reek will be good." He bawled.

"No, I would never." Robb reassured his old friend. "And even if I wanted to, you've had enough." Theon nodded vigorously. Robb sighed, and got a skin of water and handed it to Theon. "I loved you like a brother, Theon."

"Reek." He corrected.

"Theon. That is your name. Theon Greyjoy." Robb said firmly, before continuing. "I loved you like a brother, and I hated you with everything I had because of what I thought you did. Now? Looking at you now I only feel pity."

"He… he hurt me." Theon whispered as quietly as he could go. "My fingers… my toes… my… my…" He couldn't continue, and just pointed at his crotch.

Robb understood, and almost laughed. "He took away your favourite toy." He guessed. Theon nodded, tears staining his cheeks. Robb closed his eyes and pinched his nose, imagining the horror. "You won't be hurt anymore." He swore. "You've been through enough, but you won't ever step foot in the North so long as I live. Go home, Theon Greyjoy. Go to Pyke and hear my warning, because if you ever step foot on the mainland again, I'll have your head." He told Theon menacingly. Robb stood and didn't look back. On his way out, he told the guard to send him on his way to a ship, and Roose Bolton kept pace. "Your bastard needs to die and die horribly for all he put Theon through.

"I agree." Roose told Robb.

"Have him brought to the Weirwood at dawn tomorrow." Robb ordered, and left the Bolton Lord staring at the soles of his boots as Robb stormed off.

* * *

* * *

Not many people were gathered at the Winterfell Weirwood tree. Robb was there with Rickon, Arya, Roose Bolton and a handful of other Stark guards. Ramsay Snow had been gagged and strung up on the Weirwood tree, his chest bare and shivering in the light snowfall. Robb stepped forwards, looking up at the bastard.

"Ramsay Snow. Your crimes are so heinous, so immoral, that a clean death doesn't seem worthy of you." Robb snarled. "Centuries ago, the ancient First Men used to carve open the bellies of their prisoners and feed the Weirwood trees the entrails in order to receive wisdom and appease the Old Gods. Somewhere along the ages that practice was lost with flaying and other vicious forms of killing. You brought that back when you flayed Theon Greyjoy, a useful prisoner, and kept him hidden from us all. For your crimes against Theon, for your crimes against Lady Hornwood and many young girls in Lord Bolton's lands, I sentence you to die, becoming an offering to the Gods."

Robb turned back to Rickon. "Don't look away." He whispered. "It will be horrible, but we must do horrible things to protect ourselves."

"I understand." Rickon nodded, but he held his hand out for Arya to take hold of. Robb ruffled his hair and turned back to the heart tree, taking out his dagger. He could see Ramsay's eyes widen in fear, as he tried unsuccessfully to wriggle free of his bindings. Robb stopped for a moment in front of his prisoner, before plunging the dagger deep into Ramsay's belly and wrenching it to the side.

The Bolton bastard's guts all handily fell out, as his blood gushed out like a waterfall onto the roots of the Weirwood. Robb wrapped his gloved fingers around Ramsay's guts and pulled them free, ignoring the muffled screams. Like a rope, he threw the larger gut over one branch, and the thinner one over another. Stepping back, he watched with steely eyes as Ramsay twitched horribly a number of times, his movements shaking more of his blood from his body and staining the white Weirwood roots red. Moments later, and the body stopped moving, with blood dripping down.

"Cut him free, burn him." Robb ordered the guards. They did as bid and took the body away. "Leave me." He then said to the others, and soon Robb was left alone in the Godswood, bitter and angry at what he had felt the need to do. Walking forwards, he stepped over the bloodied roots and ducked between the dripping organs and placed his hand on the face of the Weirwood tree.

Immediately, he gasped as he felt himself thrown backwards. Getting to his feet, he noticed two people arguing by the tree.

"I told you to leave me!" He shouted over at them, but they acted as if they didn't hear him. Getting annoyed, Robb made his way over, and could soon hear the words.

"You have to tell Father! What if he notices you're gone?" The young boy said.

"If I tell Father he'll have me under lock and key like he tried to after Mother died and he wouldn't let me train with a sword." The girl argued. "He can rot in the ground before I tell him. I won't be gone for long anyway, everybody will be too enamoured over the wedding to notice."

"Lyanna." The boy groaned, and Robb's eyes snapped to the girl. It was his aunt, Lyanna Stark. So the boy must have been either his father, or…

"No, Ben!" Lyanna Stark exclaimed. "Brandon will wed his southern maiden and all eyes will be on him. I just want to see him again, that's all. I'll be back before we leave again for the North. He's the crown prince, he can cover for me."

"He's also married!" Benjen cried harshly.

"I'm not going to fuck him!" Lyanna snapped. "He's not like that. We challenge one another with our minds."

Benjen shook his head, turning away. "You're making a grave mistake, Lyanna. You're betrothed, he's married. You've already caused enough trouble to Princess Elia by him naming you Queen of Love and Beauty, don't antagonise her anymore. I beg you."

Lyanna shook her head and grinned. "I have to see him again, you don't understand. You don't know love." She walked away then, leaving Benjen all alone by the Weirwood tree.

"I fear you don't either." Benjen whispered.

Robb was thrown backwards again, lying in the exact same spot as he had been in before. Getting up again, he saw the entrails of Ramsay were still atop the tree, but the blood stains had disappeared. Entranced in what had just happened he sat himself down by the tree.

"Uncle Benjen knew." He told himself. "And she always expected to come back. Why then? Why did she go with him? Why did she marry him and stay in Dorne?" The diary hadn't given him enough answers it seemed, and he vowed to comb through every word that his aunt had written to try and understand it all.

* * *

* * *

Twenty men had been hung. Twenty men that Jon had once called Brothers ad swung from their necks until dead by his command. Jon didn't hang around to see them squirm their last, instead handing the Lord Commander's cloak to Edd Tollett and walking away, saying the words that helped him breathe easier. "My Watch has Ended."

Stannis Baratheon had arrived back at Castle Black the day before but Jon hadn't had the time to speak to him yet. Jon didn't have much time though, as almost as soon as he shut the door to begin packing his things with Ygritte, the door opened.

"Lord Stannis." Jon said, undoing his black armour. "Forgive me for stripping, I need to get out of this armour."

"I don't understand, Lord Snow." Stannis told him. "I arrive back and twenty men are being executed, Ser Alliser Thorne is dead and the men of the Watch and the Wildlings are terrified of you."

"Free Folk." Ygritte growled, holding out a set of Stark leather armour for Jon to put on when he was ready.

"My apologies." Stannis said insincerely. "But the fact remains. What in all of the Gods names happened?"

"I was killed, Lord Stannis." Jon said shortly, his temper at the memory flaring. He took off an undershirt to reveal his injuries. "Those that have died were traitors, they murdered me in the courtyard there. Stabbing me over and over."

Stannis was horrified at the level of stab wounds that adorned Jon's body. "Impossible…" He gasped.

"The Queen's Red Woman brought me back, some magic from her God." Jon shrugged. "I don't know exactly what happened. All I do know is that my oath has been fulfilled. I gave my life to the Watch and now I'm free to go home."

Stannis nodded, having to sit down at the information being thrown at him. "The Red Woman is here? She is wanted down in King's Landing for crimes beyond counting."

"She said her vows while masquerading as a man." Jon shook his head. "Her life belongs to the Watch now and I'm no longer the one to set her free."

Gritting his teeth, Stannis didn't argue the point. Jon went around a corner to fully get himself changed into Stark armour, helped by Ygritte as he was still sore from his wounds. A few minutes later and Jon appeared once more, his hair tied back in a Northern fashion, and Stannis found his mind being transported back over 20 years to the sight of the Northern army marching down on Storm's End to break the Tyrell siege, and a Ned Stark looking as formidable as a young man could be. "You look exactly like your Father." Stannis told him.

Jon appreciated that. "What will you do now?" He asked the Baratheon.

"I'll head back to King's Landing today and report back to King Durran on the state of the Watch and petition for more men to be sent up here early to fill the garrisons of all the castles." Stannis explained. "What about you?"

"I'll wait here a few days, let Edd or whoever get comfortable in the role before I head back to Winterfell." Jon said. "It will be good to see them all once again."

Stannis nodded his agreement, standing up and holding his hand out for Jon to shake. "Very well then, Jon Snow. I shall make my preparations and then head back to the Capital. I expect I shall see you again very soon."

Jon took Stannis' hand and shook firmly. "Aye, Lord Hand. Have a speedy trip back."

Stannis nodded his head towards Ygritte before leaving, and the two lovers were left alone to continue their packing.


	40. Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, Man Without Honour

King's Landing was slowly getting colder, and whereas Durran would normally have set up for the wedding breakfast outside, slightly chilled winds had forced him to once again open the Queen's Ballroom for an occasion. Myrcella sat in the central seat, with Durran to her right and Cersei to her left as they tucked into a hearty cooked breakfast. Myrcella seemed to be struggling to eat, to her Mother's disapproval.

"Eat, my love." Cersei smiled, putting another roll of bread onto her plate. "You will need your strength."

"We have a seven-course meal later." Myrcella groaned. "This is so unnecessary."

"Your wedding day is one of the most monumental of your life, sister." Durran told her, having a sip of some lemon water. "The ceremony can be long and arduous, you don't want to be passing out in front of thousands of people."

"So many?" Myrcella was surprised.

"Yes." Durran nodded, looking unhappy. "Lords from all over Dorne have come back to the capital to see their new liege wed, and Lords from the Crownlands and Stormlands come to celebrate their Princess."

"You shouldn't have let the Dornish in the capital." Cersei told him shortly.

"I didn't have a choice, Lord Dayne is their liege and he has the right to guests." Durran told her. "They have had their weapons confiscated and the Kingsguard are on high alert, do not worry."

At that moment Daenerys walked in the room flanked by Ser Jaime and Ser Perwyn. Durran stood to help her into her chair beside him. "Thank you." She whispered, before turning to Myrcella. "How are you feeling?"

"Eager to get on with it, Your Grace." Myrcella laughed.

"Don't wish it away." Dany told her, taking a couple of sausages. "We had to rush our wedding due to the circumstances at the time."

Durran laughed fondly at the memory. "I was handed Stormbringer by Uncle Stannis and told I was to marry Dany that night, our wedding feast had about a dozen guests, most I'd only ever met once or twice before."

"You've had more time, and that's a blessing." Dany nodded.

"Speaking of time." Durran began. "It'll soon be time for us to head down to the Sept of Baelor and you still need to change."

Myrcella nodded. "Ser Jaime, can you escort me?" She asked, and the Kingsguard knight just nodded. Myrcella stood up, followed by the rest of the table.

"I'll see you down by the wheelhouse." Durran told her, hugging his sister. Myrcella hugged the others too and left with her uncle.

They walked in silence until they reached Myrcella's room and the Princess stopped as the door closed. "Isn't it funny, how love works."

"I don't quite understand your meaning." Jaime said slowly.

Myrcella chuckled. "Just, that I can truly see myself growing to love Edric, but he was chosen for me, I didn't have a say, not really. Durran and Daenerys are perfect for one another, and that only happened because Durran stumbled across her one day. It's just, interesting, how it all works."

"We don't choose whom we love, Myrcella." Jaime sighed. "One day it just happens, whether we like it or not."

"Is that how it happened for you?" Myrcella asked. "It just happened?"

Jaime's eyes widened in horror. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." Myrcella smiled sweetly. "It's ok, I know."

"Whatever you think you know…" Jaime began.

"Father." Myrcella said quietly, staring into Jaime's eyes. Jaime's breath hitched, as her words ran around his head.

"Robert Baratheon was your Father." He denied.

Myrcella shook her head. "I'm glad he isn't, truly." She said softly. "King Robert was distant, and a drunk, and horrible to Mother. You are the one person that it's obvious that she loves. You always made her happy."

"Myrcella…" Jaime began, but he was interrupted by Myrcella taking his hand.

"I'm glad, that you're my Father. I'm glad that even though I know it has to stay secret and that you can't walk me to Edric that you'll be there watching, and hopefully proud of me." Myrcella smiled.

Jaime was shocked into stillness, but he brought Myrcella in for an intimate embrace, leaning his chin on the top of her head. "I've always been proud of you, and Tommen." He whispered almost silently.

Myrcella smiled into his chest and buried herself further into Jaime's embrace, not noticing the single tear falling down the Kingsguard's cheek.

* * *

As King's Landing prepared for a celebration, Winterfell was slightly more morbid. Arya had not long turned 16, and it was now time for her to depart to take up her role as Commander of Moat Cailin. She had woken up that morning excited, but as breakfast wore on the nerves began to show, and Robb noticed.

"You will be fine. You have excellent people at the Moat who will be eager to serve and to help you." He insisted.

"I know, I've just never had to lead before, not really." Arya shrugged.

"I know you well enough to know that it will come naturally to you." Robb chuckled. "Remember that Mother will soon be there as well." Catelyn had agreed to stay in Riverrun for a time before setting off to Moat Cailin and aiding Arya for a few months.

"She'll be telling stories of how perfect the wedding was and how perfect Sansa is." Arya rolled her eyes. "And asking the same of me."

Robb smirked. "Well, Commander Stark. All I ask of you is that you command your garrison well, and to hold the Moat for as long as you are able."

"Always, Lord Stark." Arya grinned back at their formal interaction. "Can we spar before I go?"

Robb nodded. "Get Rickon too, we'll go to the Godswood."

And they did, Arya's last morning in Winterfell was spent as she'd always wanted them to go before King Robert had travelled up to the North, whacking her Brother's with wooden swords and acting the boy. She managed to tach Rickon a thing or two about the water dance, but the Stark girl didn't reckon that he would use it himself.

Eventually though, no matter how long she put it off, she had to leave. Her bags were packed and plenty of weapons and armour had been stored in the half a dozen carts being sent down to Moat Cailin, and Arya found herself stood in the courtyard saying goodbye to her Brothers. She hugged Roslin quickly, gave Brandon a quick pat on the head and then hugged Rickon fiercely and told him to write her letters, and finally, she hugged Robb too.

"You have a Maester there now, so don't be a stranger and write to me too." Robb told her.

"I will. Tell me when you find Bran?" She asked. Robb nodded. Arya held in a tear as she stepped away and mounted her horse. Turning back, she joked. "Don't burn down Winterfell this time alright?"

Robb choked out a laugh, and held up his arm to wave goodbye, letting Arya ride out of the castle gates and on to her new adventure.

* * *

Another exit was also taking place further North, as Jon and Ygritte prepared their horses for the long ride to Winterfell. Tightening the saddle, Jon turned around to see his friends gathering around the gate.

"Do you have to go?" Grenn asked, sounding annoyed.

"Aye, Grenn. I do." Jon sighed. "I can't stay here, not after what happened. I need to go home, I can help prepare the South for what's coming."

Edd didn't look happy, as usual. "You know what's out there. We need you here, at the Wall fighting alongside us."

Jon shook his head and hugged his former Brother. "No, but you do need this." He undid his sword belt and handed Longclaw over to Edd. "Make it the new sword of the Lord Commander or give it back to House Mormont, I don't care. It belonged to Lord Commander Mormont before me and it's needed here more than I need it."

Edd took the sword hesitantly, but Jon pushed it into his body and nodded his approval. "You'll be missed, Lord Snow." Edd told him.

"We'll see each other again." Jon told the pair as he looked up towards the top of the ice structure that dominated the view for miles. "Just don't knock it down while I'm gone."

Grenn chuckled. "Aye, we'll try."

Jon nodded, and hugged his former brothers for a final time before mounting his horse. He looked back and raised a hand in farewell at the gathered men, before his attention was captured by the fiery red head saddled up beside him. "Are you ready?" She asked him.

"Aye…" Jon trailed off. "Let's go home."

* * *

The wedding went smoothly, and Myrcella had been wrapped in the purple cloak of House Dayne and said the words to bind her to the Lord of Starfall. One hundred people had then been invited back to Maegor's Holdfast, Lords and Ladies or their representatives from Dorne, the Crownlands and the Stormlands all celebrating the union.

Durran soon burst into laughter at the pair of jesters making fools of themselves on a stage for the entertainment. Three of the courses had been served, and an entertainment break was well needed. Dany sat next to him, looking tired but enjoying herself.

"Are you alright, my love?" He called over to her over the noise of the celebration.

Dany nodded. "Sorry, but the two children barely settled before the feast. I'm just about ready to fall asleep myself."

Durran nodded, and took her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckles. "Go if you like, Myrcella will understand."

Dany was grateful and kissed his cheek before making her excuses to the newlyweds and leaving with Ser Perwyn. Durra watched her go, before his attention was drawn back to the jesters, who had grown tired of one another's company and had started to wrestle. Bursting into hearty laughter, Durran nodded at a guard to break them up.

"Well, this seems a good time to let you know that you have a guest." Jaime said from behind the table. Durran and Myrcella both turned to the door, and Myrcella squealed in delight, rushing to her feet and running to the door.

"Tommen!" She cried, as in the doorway stood the armoured figure of their 14-year-old brother. "You made it!"

The boy had gotten a lot taller and leaner, but with a healthy amount of muscle just peeking through. "I wasn't going to miss the wedding. I'm sorry I'm late Cella."

"What happened?" Durran asked. "I expected you days ago."

Myrcella turned to Durran. "You knew?"

Grinning, Durran nodded. "It was meant to be a surprise."

"We were delayed." Tommen said quietly. "Some trouble on the Gold Road, Merrell Florent."

"The squire?" Durran asked, remembering the name.

"He escaped from Highgarden after Lord Willas' wedding and had around seven men with him all bragging about crowning a Queen the day after the wedding today." Tommen shook his head. "They're all dead."

Durran didn't like the sound of that, but Cersei had spotted them and came rushing over to grab her youngest boy in a crushing hug. "Oh Tommen! My how you've grown."

"Hello Mother." Tommen smiled, gesturing to Durran that they'd talk later. Nodding, Durran escorted Myrcella back to her husband, letting them whisper into one another's ear as he sought Ser Barristan.

"Your Grace." The elderly knight greeted.

"Keep an eye out for trouble from the Dornish." Durran whispered. "The rebel houses especially."

"Are we expecting any?" Ser Barristan asked, his hand tightening around his sword hilt.

Durran wasn't sure. "Maybe." Was all he said before returning to his seat.

Looking around, he noticed men from several Dornish Houses that had bent the knee after the burning of Plankytown, several of which had lined up to give gifts to the Princess and Lord Dayne. The lazy eyed heir of House Yronwood gifted the pair a Dornish dagger, and the eldest son of Lady Allyrion gifted them a painting of a new row boat that had been delivered to Starfall for them to enjoy. Relaxing slightly, Durran took another sip of wine and nodded at a servant to bring in his own gift to the pair.

As the servant left the room, Ser Ulrick Uller stepped to the table. "My Lord, Princess." He bowed before them.

"Ser Ulrick, how is your Brother?" Edric asked jovially. "I hope he's well."

"Harmen is well enough, Lord Dayne." The knight told them. "He mourns for his daughter and his grandchildren."

Edric shifted uncomfortably. "A bad business."

"But one carried out nonetheless." Ulrick added. "We have a gift for you both."

He reached into a satchel and slammed down a golden, misshapen skull on the table. Myrcella was unnerved but to her credit she stayed calm, Edric narrowed his eyes. "What is this?"

"We felt it was high time to return Aegon's whore sister to the castle she should have ruled from." Ulrick said, as two men flanked him. He stared into Myrcella's deep green eyes and smirked. "Apparently she used to be pretty."

Durran and Edric both stood up menacingly. "That's enough." Durran commanded. "Get out."

Ulrick shook his head. "Your Grace, we mean no offence."

"Yet you're causing it." Durran snapped. "Bringing this here… it's not out of the kindness of your heart."

"This is a warning." Edric shook his head. "Ulrick, your Brother bent the knee."

"As did I, to the true King." Ulrick growled. "And I shall see his daughter crowned!"

Chaos erupted, as around a dozen or so members of the Dornish party brandished their eating knives and buried them into other guests. Durran was immediately barrelled to the ground by Ser Arys Oakheart, as Ulrick had grabbed the dagger from Lord Yronwood and thrust it at Myrcella. Luckily, Jaime had also noticed the danger, and had dragged her roughly away, but exposed himself to the dagger, feeling it bury itself into his lower back. "GO!" Jaime roared at Myrcella, who had run over to Cersei in terror. "Get her out of here." He ordered Cersei. Cersei looked torn, but nodded and grabbed Myrcella as they followed Podrick,

Durran had used the time as Jaime was screaming at his sister to jump over the table and plough into one of the men with Ulrick, engaging in a brutal fistfight. Soon swords had been drawn, and in the enclosed ballroom duels were had.

Jaime had found himself stood side by side with Edric Dayne, trying to hold off three people. "She has to die." Ulrick growled. "No Lannister will rule over Dorne."

"You lost your war." Jaime reminded him. "This is madness."

"By now the Queen will be in our custody and the Stag whore will be dead, along with her children." The man next to Ulrick gloated, swinging at Jaime who parried. Ulrick swung next, and Jaime was forced to defend himself while still bleeding from the knife embedded in his back.

"Get out of here! Protect her!" He told Edric as he took the attention of both men. Edric saw the opening and nodded running towards the doors. Jaime parried again, before swinging low and slashing the thigh of one of his attackers. The Dornishman fell to the floor in a roar before his noise was cut short with a slash to the throat.

Ulrick Uller was a formidable knight though, and Jaime was weakening. His skill was still on show however, getting in numerous cuts. "Give up, Kingslayer." Ulrick spat blood. "It's pointless."

"I killed one King." Jaime grunted, swinging his blade. "I failed another." He swung again. "I will not. Fail. A third!"

He roared, using all his pain as motivation to break the defence of Ser Ulrick and plunging his sword into his stomach. Wrenching upwards, Jaime felt the life of the Uller knight fade away.

"Dornish… blade…" Uller said feebly reaching around and pulling the Yronwood dagger out of Jaime's back, causing them both to drop to the floor. With his last breaths, Ser Ulrick whispered. "We… learnt from… Prince Oberyn."

Panting, Jaime understood. Cursing the blade, the Dornish, and everything he possibly could, he tried to focus on the room around him. He saw Barristan fend off two men at once, he saw Tommen, his son Tommen, successfully killing an assailant and had never been prouder. Tommen soon saw him, and ran over, dropping his sword on the floor as he tried to hold Jaime up.

"Uncle Jaime… please get up." Tommen urged, tears forming in his eyes.

Jaime weakly shook his head. "It's too late for me Tommen…" He whispered. "Poisoned blade in the back. Fitting."

"No." Tommen cried, trying to hoist Jaime upright, but the Lannister knight was too heavy. "Please…"

"Listen to me." Jaime said weakly, coughing. "You are the best of us all, Lord Lannister. I am proud…" He coughed again. "Proud to call you family."

"Stop it." Tommen begged. "GET A MAESTER!"

"Tommen listen." Jaime said grabbing Tommen's hand, his vision blurring, but he blinked and refocused. "You need to be strong. Strong for Myrcella, strong for Cersei… Strong for the Westerlands."

"How can I be." Tommen said, tears streaming down his face. "I don't know how."

"You will be…" Jaime wheezed. "Because you are your Father's son. I every… every way… you…" He couldn't carry on, and as Jaime began to lose consciousness he saw his sister, his sweet sister smiling at him on the beach at Casterly Rock.

* * *

"No! Uncle Jaime!" Was the first thing Durran heard as the room began to quieten. Men lay dead, Dornishmen, Stormlanders, Crownlanders alike. After he had pummelled his first opponent to death with his bare hands, he had found a sword and acted like a madman, roaring from one Dornish victim to the next.

Looking over at the source of the scream, he saw Tommen crouched over a body in black, Kingsguard armour. Noticing the red details, he gasped in horror and rushed over, followed by Ser Barristan. His fears were confirmed when he saw the blonde hair of his uncle.

"No…" He gasped, falling to his knees.

"He…" Tommen cried. "Poisoned dagger." Was all he could say. Durran remembered how Myrcella had been protected and felt enormous pride for his Uncle, fighting off two men at once while slowly being poisoned to death.

"Why?" Durran gasped. "Why is this still not over?"

"DURRAN!" A voice screamed from the doors. Durran looked over at his wife, her dress bloodstained and a dagger in her hand. "They took her! They took Rhaena!"

"What?" Ser Barristan asked, completely out of character as Durran rushed over and held Dany's head gently in his hands, making sure she was ok.

"What happened?" Durran asked, stepping back and pinching his nose to try and stop his emotions getting the best of him.

"I was sleeping in Rhaena's room as she wouldn't settle without me, and Ser Perwyn woke me up by fighting a couple of men." Dany explained, her voice ragged. "Two got past him. I stabbed one but the other knocked me down and ran off with Rhaena!"

"Fuck!" Durran swore. "Ser Barristan, we'll ride them down. Dany, I need you with Tommen."

"What?" Dany asked, confused. She looked over and saw Tommen still crouched over Jaime's body. "Oh… yes… go, please, get Rhaena back."

Durran nodded and kissed his wife, before running through the Red Keep and towards the stables with his Lord Commander and Ser Arys had joined them. Quickly mounting up with no saddle, Durran raced off down Aegon's Hill as fast as his horse could carry him.

* * *

They travelled through the city for a couple of minutes when a commotion was heard down one of the streets and thick, black smoke was seen in the near distance.

"Make way for the King!" Ser Arys roared over the crowd, as the commoners parted for Durran to ride through with his Kingsguard. He couldn't hear much over the noise created by the crowd, but 'dragon' and 'fire' were clear and for the first time he had actually felt worried for his niece's life.

In the middle of a small clearing flanked by a couple of burning buildings, the great black monstrosity Dārys was laying down, chewing on the charred body of a horse. Durran looked horrified. "What have you done." He said softly to the dragon.

"He saved that baby, milord." A peasant said in awe, not taking his bulging eyes away from the dragon. "I saw it all."

"This is your King." Ser Barristan reprimanded.

"Sorry Your Grace."

"That's ok." Durran shook his head. "What happened?"

The man gulped. "That's my house there." He pointed to one of the now put out buildings, still smoking. "I saw two men riding with a baby in their arms. Nasty they looked, Dornish. The dragon swooped down and roasted them all, but got my house see."

Durran felt a pain in his chest. "He burnt the baby?" He asked weakly.

"Aye but… but look Your Grace!" The man cried, pointing at the dragon's feet. Durran followed the finger and gasped.

"Rhaena…" He whispered. The baby was happily snoozing using the dragons foot as a pillow.

"She didn't burn." The man said in awe. "She was unharmed, and he curled around her."

Amazed, Durran thanked the man and slowly walked up to the feasting dragon. He was a few feet away when the dragon turned and snarled at him. " **Easy…** " He said in Valyrian. " **I need to take her to your Mother.** "

Dārys blew smoke from his nostrils but turned away and ripped more flesh off of the horse, allowing Durran to come closer and to pick up the baby. Rhaena squirmed, waking up and began whimpering for the dragon, but soon settled down in Durran's strong arms.

Making his way back to his Kingsguard, he said. "Ser Arys, stay here and help out were you can. I'll send some men down to aid you, but we need the Crowns voice on this. Send somebody to go to the Sept of Baelor and get the help of the High Septon."

"At once, Your Grace." Arys bowed. "What will you do?"

Durran sighed. "Take this one back to Daenerys, and then we'll mourn my Uncle."

Barristan bowed his head. "He did his duty. He protected her."

Durran nodded. "Mother will be distraught…"

* * *

And he was right. As Durran arrived back at the Red Keep and handed Rhaena over to her aunt, Myrcella and Tommen were with her, tears in their eyes. Durran wasted no time in bringing them into his embrace.

"I can't believe it…" Myrcella whispered. "Today wasn't supposed to be like this…"

"Mother is destroying everything." Tommen said just as quietly. "Ser Balon won't allow us to see her."

Durran nodded. "I'll talk to her." He promised. "Where's Edric?"

"With his Lords trying to figure out how this happened." Myrcella said bitterly. "Apparently this resentment has been festering for a while, but it's mainly heirs and brothers that felt empowered by Viserys. I hear Dickon Manwoody killed his own uncle for joining in that little fiasco."

"Gods." Durran ran his hand through his hair. "What a mess."

"I want the guard around the children doubled." Dany told him. "Three times as many for Rhaena. If they get her it will start a war that we can't afford."

"It will be done." Durran insisted. "I better go and see Mother; will you be ok?"

Myrcella nodded, but she began crying once more. "Go, I'll be alright." She sobbed, leaning into Tommen. Durran kissed Dany once more and kissed his children, soon leaving for his Mother's chambers.

* * *

Podrick was in the doorway, doing his best not to wince at the screams and the crashing of ornaments going flying. "I wouldn't go in there, Your Grace."

Durran smiled sadly. "I can handle it." Podrick shrugged but opened the door for him and Durran entered, only to duck as a vase was lobbed at his head, smashing against the quickly closed wooden door. "Mother." He called.

The room was a mess. Furniture was everywhere, curtains pulled down and torn to shreds, smashed plates, goblets and decanters lined the floor. Cersei was curled in a corner, her blonde hair a mess and her dress in tatters. Durran walked over to her and sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulder. Cersei could only lean into him, sobbing harder and harder as each passing second went on.

* * *

That night Durran still hadn't returned to his and Dany's chambers. Dany had moved all three children there for the night, and ten guards had been posted outside in the corridor. The Targaryen Queen was terrified for them, and while security in the castle had been on a state of high alert all day, she couldn't relax herself. Even Rhaellar and Dārys flying above the castle couldn't calm Dany.

Kissing her children and Rhaena goodnight, she saw a glimmer of yellow in the moonlight tucked away in the corner of the room. Remembering the dragon eggs from Viserys' pyre, she walked over and picked the pair of eggs up. One pale blue and the other a shocking yellow, she held them in her arms before making up her mind. Taking them over to the three cribs, she placed the yellow one in the arms of Elaenor and the blue in the arms of Duncan. Sighing happily at the sight, she walked out onto the balcony and gave her dragons another look.

"For years my family gave its babes eggs to sleep with, and they hatched for them." Dany whispered to the moonlit sky. "I pray to all the Seven for these eggs to hatch, to give my children as much protection as they can have."


	41. The Third Eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold Itallic speech is in the native tongue of Asshai.

**306 AC**

Ten months it had been since the murder of Jaime Lannister, and yet again Durran found himself at another wedding. Myrcella had taken some time out after the tragedy but had eventually felt happy enough to consummate the marriage and move out to Dorne, much to Durran and Cersei's worry, but from her recent letters it seemed like Starfall was every bit as wonderful as she had imagined, and she had begun to establish herself as a formidable Lady, keeping the Dornish in check. Durran often wondered how she managed it.

Tommen too had moved, heading back to Casterly Rock a couple of weeks after the Ballroom Massacre as it had come to be known. Taking both Cersei and Jaime's body back with him that had also been a tough farewell for Durran's family. Cersei had since returned to King's Landing, becoming a lot quieter and drinking a lot more wine, but with a simmering anger towards everyone but her own family, and in particular all the Dornish, that Durran was a little scared of.

For Durran personally however, life was starting to look more positive again. A few weeks before their journey to Riverrun Dany had told him that she was pregnant once more, news that brought some life back to the Red Keep. Currently her belly was just starting to poke out further than her breasts, and the Maester believed there to only be a few months left.

The ever-fertile Dany was the subject of Catelyn Stark's attention as the wedding feast for Shireen Baratheon and Edmure Tully was in full swing. The Stark matriarch having only been at Winterfell for a matter of months, but enough time to see the birth of her second grandson, a boy that Robb had called Edwyle, after his Father.

"He has my eyes." Cat was saying. "But his face is all Ned."

"He sounds lovely." Dany smiled.

Cat nodded, her eyes lighting up. "He'll be a real heartbreaker when he grows up." She laughed lightly. "Brandon is quieter and thinks more. Edwyle is louder and screams the castle walls down when he wants something."

Durran grinned at that. "That sounds like Dunc, he's a noisy one too."

"Oh, isn't he just!" Dany exclaimed, as she began to rant on about a story from a few months back. Durran began to look around the room, zoning out of the conversation to see some of the faces that were attending the union. He saw Shireen and Edmure awkwardly attempting conversation and sighed amusedly. To the side of his cousin sat his Uncle Stannis and Aunt Joy, and the sight of Stannis chilled him.

The elder Baratheon had arrived back at King's Landing barely a week after the Ballroom Massacre, and his words made the event seem like a children's bed time story. Tales of White Walkers and wights and Jon Snow coming back to life by being burnt on a pyre. The tale truly scared Durran, but Catelyn assured him that Jon was perfectly healthy and safe, just sporting an extremely scarred torso. That was all she said on the matter, as all conversation about it ended abruptly and with Catelyn refusing to look both Durran and Dany in the eye.

"Durran." Dany said urgently. He snapped his attention back to his wife.

"What is it, is it the baby?" He asked panicked. Dany grinned and rolled her eyes, turning back to Catelyn.

"You see? Our King's mind is always wandering." She joked. "I said that you don't need to feel like you have to sit with me all day. My belly may be getting as big as Aelyx, but I am perfectly capable of sitting still, and Lady Stark is here if anything happens."

"I don't…" Durran began.

"Go." Dany insisted. "Mingle with your subjects, go and dance with your cousin."

Durran shook his head with a grin. "Sometimes I forget who is King." He jested.

"It was the same in Winterfell, Your Grace." Cat smiled sadly. "Ned was the Lord, but once we grew close, it sometimes seemed like I ruled him."

"You women, you don't know the power you hold over us mere men." Durran said dramatically, holding his hands over his heart. He leant in to kiss Dany. "If you need me I won't be far."

"Go." Dany laughed, and Durran obeyed his wife, beginning to move away as the girls began talking of Sansa Stark's recent pregnancy news and a small allergy that Elaenor had recently found out she had.

Shaking his head amusedly at the quick conversations about children, he made his way over to the side of the room where Stannis was now talking to Shireen as Edmure danced with Joy.

"Your Grace." Stannis said formally, Shireen turned to see him and curtseyed formally, repeating the greeting.

"Uncle, Cousin." Durran nodded his head at them both.

"Security is holding, no troubles have been reported to me." Stannis began, and Durran was relieved.

"There won't be any trouble." Shireen rolled her eyes. "The Riverlords are loyal, as are the Stormlords."

"You can never guarantee peace, Shireen." Stannis said darkly, his eyes flickering to her greyscale scars.

Shireen beamed at her Father. "We're safe in Riverrun, I promise. Since Myrcella's wedding nobody gets through the gates without Lord Edmure's say so."

Durran nodded at that. "He treats you right?"

Shireen nodded, but her smile seemed a bit forced. "He treats me well, he lets me spend as much time as I like in the library. I do still feel like he treats me as a child at times though."

"He likely still views you as one. I'm sure that will change tonight." Durran said honestly. "Marriage has that power."

"I don't want to hear this." Stannis groaned, much to Shireen's amusement.

"You may want to leave for a while then Father." She smiled sweetly, before her face was filled with nerves. "I think they'll be calling for the bedding soon." She added nervously.

Stannis shook his head quickly before kissing Shireen on her clear cheek and telling her. "Make sure he's gentle but do your duty."

"I will." She nodded, gulping.

Stannis nodded, and an awkward silence hung over them. "Your Grace… if I may…"

"Go, Uncle." Durran laughed. Stannis quickly hurried away to his chambers. "The poor man, one day the thought of you becoming a woman will kill him."

"I've always just been his little girl." Shireen shrugged. "I have to grow up sometime."

Durran looked over and saw Edmure having a laugh with some of his friends, and the red head was protesting at something weakly. "I think you may need to start growing up now, they're waiting for me to move to call for the bedding." Shireen looked slightly worried, but Durran put his hand on her shoulder. "It will be ok. It may hurt at first, but you may grow to enjoy it."

"Durran!" Shireen exclaimed quietly, scandalised. "I'm a Lady, I was always taught we can't enjoy it!"

Durran had a wide grin. "Then can someone tell the Queen that before I have four children before I'm twenty years of age."

Shireen burst into hearty laughter, before calming herself down. "It's really ok?"

Durran nodded. "I can't reassure you from experience, but you will be fine. Just be brave, and slightly brazen if you feel up to it, listen to Edmure and get him to help you, he's not the most inexperienced husband going so he knows what he's doing."

Shireen didn't look to pleased. "I should be thankful he's fucked whores?"

Durran shook his head. "No, but you should be thankful to have someone who won't just fumble at you and not know what to do. Trust me, my first time was hilariously short lived and unsatisfying for the Queen. Thankfully we got better, and so will you."

Feeling slightly at ease, Shireen let out a small smile. "Let's get it over with then, it is getting late."

Squeezing her shoulder once more, Durran waited for Shireen to sit back at the high table with Edmure and let her whisper to him what was happening before the King moved to the centre of the room. Shouting as loud as his voice could let him go, he said. "We've had the wedding! We've had the feast. Words were said and wine has been drunk, but a wedding isn't complete until the bedding!" Bawdy cheers were heard by the drunk men and women in the room. "My Lords, my Ladies, esteemed guests of the Riverlands and Stormlands. Let us bed them!"

Louder cheers went up as men and women piled up to the high table, and Durran went over to sit with Dany once more.

"Is this the first time in history that the man calling for the bedding isn't taking part?" Dany joked.

Durran laughed. "That's not for me."

"When I got married to Ned, in this very room actually." Cat reminisced. "Your Father called for our bedding." She told Durran.

"Why am I not surprised." Durran groaned, to Dany's amusement.

"Ned was the only person who could have threatened the King on that day and gotten away with it." Cat chuckled. "He told Robert 'It's my wedding night, I wouldn't ruin it by breaking your jaw my friend'."

Durran laughed as the cheers died down the further away the bride and groom got. "You must miss him terribly, My Lady."

Cat nodded. "So dearly, but I now have grandchildren to dote upon and more time to do that now Lady Roslin is in Winterfell. I will always miss Ned, but things aren't so bad."

Durran nodded, but his foreboding words sent shivers down everyone who heard them. "Not now, but they might when Winter comes for us all."

* * *

The gate of Castle Black creaked open, and the brothers of the Night's Watch weren't sure if they should be worried about the two individuals on the Northern side of the Wall. Stepping forward torches in hand, Edd spoke to them as Lord Commander.

"You Wildlings?" He asked them.

The girl stepped forwards. "I… I'm Meera Reed. Daughter of Howland Reed." She shivered. "This is Brandon Stark. Son of Ned Stark."

The surname made the men stir slightly as they thought of Jon. "How do I know that's true?" Edd asked. Gendry peered round and saw the young man on the sled.

"You're really Brandon Stark?" He asked.

Bran nodded. "I am. You are Ser Gendry Durrande. You know my sister, Arya."

Gendry nodded. "I do."

"Gendry…" Edd whispered harshly.

"The boy tells the truth." Melisandre appeared from the darkness. "He is the son of Eddard, son of Rickard. He must go to Winterfell."

"Thank you." Bran said to the Red Woman. "For saving Jon." Melisandre was surprised, and with an eyebrow raised she slowly walked forwards to the sled. Meera went to stop her, but Bran said. "Let her through, Meera."

Stepping to one side, the Reed girl could only watch on as Melisandre knelt in the snow and placed her hand upon Bran's forehead. The boy placed both of his own hands on top of hers, and for a second his eyes went white.

"What the fuck…" Grenn gawped.

"He's seeing something." Meera explained. "Past, present, future. I'm not sure what it is but it's something."

Melisandre fell backwards with a gasp, panting heavily. Bran looked as stoic as he had since the gate had opened. "You must go there." He said. "It is your destiny."

"I will." Melisandre said shakily.

"Where? Where are you going?" Edd asked. "You swore vows."

"To false Gods, in a disguise. Mellaro spoke those words, Melisandre didn't." The Red Woman explained. "Do not be alarmed, Commander Tollett, what we do in these moments will help us win the war."

With that she looked again at Bran before walking off Northwards into the distance, leaving the men of the Night's Watch stood in the gateway looking gormless, not knowing what they should do next. Gendry took the initiative and grabbed the sled.

"Come in milord, welcome to Castle Black." He said to Bran. "Milady." He also nodded to Meera. "We should get some food in you before you head back to Winterfell and you can tell us all about how a cripple survived the North."

* * *

Robb grunted as his leg was swept from underneath him and he crashed down to the floor, a sword soon pointed at his neck.

"Yield." He groaned, "I fucking yield."

Jon Snow grinned, and after sheathing his castle forged sword he held an arm out for Robb to take and help himself up. "What have you been doing all these years? I never used to beat you."

"Aye you just got lucky." Robb rolled his eyes, picking up his own sword from the floor.

"Or I've gotten better than you." Jon grinned.

Robb leant on his thighs to try and catch his breath. "Hardly." He said unconvincingly. The Stark Lord went to grab a drink of water, gulping it down. The pair then looked over to where Rickon was practicing his archery and failing at it.

"Remember when that was Bran?" Robb asked.

Jon nodded at the memory. "Back before all this went to shit." He sighed, although he smiled at the image of Ygritte giving the younger Stark pointers. Robb noticed the smile.

"Any plans to have one of your own?" He teased. Jon shook his head.

"Maybe once it's all over." He said solemnly. "Right now we don't want another defenceless baby in Winterfell to worry over. Your two are enough."

Robb nodded, his smile dropping from his face. "I keep telling Roslin to go down to the Twins with them, but she refuses."

"After what you've told me of Walder Frey I don't blame her." Jon feigned a shudder. "The Night King seems more pleasant."

Robb tried to hold in his laughter but failed, tears streaming down his eyes at the thought. "You're not wrong." He howled. Jon joined him, until a rock was thrown at the former Lord Commander by his newly official wife.

"Sorry Ygritte." Jon called over, as the woman just shook her head.

"How is she settling in?" Robb asked as the two men walked away from the tiltyard and walked up to the balcony to oversee Rickon.

"Better now she has a purpose." Jon told him. "Giving her that role in the guard really helped her, thank you."

Robb waved it away. "She's your woman, so long as I'm here you'll always have a place in Winterfell the both of you."

Jon appreciated that but fell silent until they arrived at the balcony. Leaning on the bannister, they watched as Rickon finally hit the target, and applauded to make the child feel even happier. "He's growing up so fast." Jon said solemnly. "When I left the first time he was so young."

"And now we have a new generation of children." Robb noted, looking further into the courtyard of Winterfell to see his son Brandon running around playing with Grey Wind and Ghost. "Sansa's pregnant, Arya will have to get married soon. Life moves on Jon, things change. You should know that more than most."

Jon scowled. "I told you, I don't want to talk about that."

"We have to eventually." Robb insisted. "You have her diary, you have the sword. Whether you like it or not the facts are there…"

"You don't understand!" Jon shouted, catching the attention of the pair below them. Closing his eyes and catching his breath, Jon said quieter. "All my life I was led to believe that I was a bastard, a stain upon Father's honour, the child he should have thrown to the wolves. I was shunned, I was bullied, all for being a bastard. And now I find out that all that was a lie? Father… Ned, did all that to me when it wasn't true?"

"You know why he had to." Robb said softly.

"That doesn't make it any less painful." Jon snapped. "He should have told me, even if I had to keep quiet about it."

Robb nodded. "I agree." He sighed. "Which is why I told you almost immediately, and why I gave you your Mother's book."

"Don't." Jon said quietly. "Don't call her that, please."

Robb sighed and placed his hand on Jon's shoulder. "No matter what, you'll always be my brother. Remember that."

Jon nodded, and placed his hand on Robb's. "I know… I just need to process it all. If you'll excuse me My Lord."

Taking his hand away, Robb nodded again letting Jon walk away. Watching him, Robb knew exactly what he was doing, as Jon made his way over to the crypts.

* * *

In King's Landing, the Prince and the Princess were being looked after by Cersei. Elaenor had contracted a mild fever a few days back and was being treated, although a recent allergic reaction from a drink had set her back. Cersei wasn't happy and had had the girl that served Elaenor the drink arrested as the Maester set about alleviating the wheezing three-year-old by feeding her a drink mixed from special herbs and feeding her some small dices of a mix of chicken and pork.

"You knew that the Princess had reactions to certain flowers, and yet you felt it wise to force a flower-based tea down her throat?" Cersei asked coldly, as the woman tearfully hid her face. "Answer me!"

"It was a special tea from Yi Ti, Your Grace." She cried. "I didn't know…"

"You didn't know?" Cersei asked, enraged. "Did you not think to ASK?"

"I'm sorry Your Grace." The woman wailed, a noise which Duncan didn't like either lying in his crib as he began to voice his annoyance.

"And now you've awoken the Prince." Cersei scowled. "Take her away. Flog her and put her in the Black Cells for a night. Tomorrow morning, throw her out. I don't want to see her in the Red Keep ever again."

"Your Grace… please… I have nowhere to go…"

"You should have thought about that before you poisoned your Princess." Cersei snarled. "Now."

Two men dragged her by the arms out of the doorway, and Cersei tried to shake the anger off of her face, while inwardly she was still screaming the same scream that had engulfed her mind ever since she had seen Jaime's body. Putting a smile on her face, Cersei went to pick up the heir to the throne and walked over to the Maester, who was settling Elaenor down by the fire. "She will be alright." The Maester said. "Her airways are still filling more than they should, but it is not threatening. Some smooth soups and a specific diet will help the child. Let her rest tonight and she should be fine in the morning."

"Thank you, Maester." Cersei said.

"I'll go and ensure all of that imported flower is destroyed Your Grace, unless you need me for anything else?"

Cersei shook her head. "It's growing later Maester, we should both let the children sleep now." The Maester bowed his head and walked out of the room, leaving Cersei to place Duncan on the large sofa with his sister. She walked over to the table and picked up the dragon eggs, placing the right ones in the children's arms as they drifted off to sleep. Kissing them both on the forehead, she whispered. "Good night, my loves. Sleep well." Before walking out of the room, not hearing the sound of an egg cracking just a moment later.

* * *

After their conversation on the balcony, Jon had tried to avoid Robb as best he could, but they were brought together once more a few days later when the first shipment of Dragonglass weapons arrived at Winterfell. Four carts filled to the brim with baskets of daggers, spearheads and arrowheads, and Robb was talking with the new smith, Colren about getting them ready for the Northern soldiers to use. Jon meanwhile was stood to the side, talking seriously to Ygritte about something.

"Aye milord, I can do something with these." Colren said to Robb.

"Good." Robb told him happily. "I want this to be your priority now, forget steel. Get as many Dragonglass weapons ready and in the armoury as you can on a daily basis. We don't know when we'll need them to be sent to the Northern houses first. Last Hearth and Karhold especially."

"At once, Lord Stark." Colren bowed, before barking orders at the guards. "Get to work you lot! I want all these baskets in my shop now!"

Robb chuckled and grabbed a basket himself, helping his men with the moving. Jon also helped out, and a couple of hours later the carts were ready to go back to White Harbour.

"I want to go with them." Jon said out of the blue. Robb turned to face him questioningly.

"What?" Robb asked.

"I want to go to Dragonstone, to aid them in the mining efforts." Jon repeated. "This is good… but we need more. Send me to King's Landing to speak with King Durran, and I'll persuade him."

Shaking his head, Robb began to refuse. "No, your place is here in Winterfell. Your home is here."

"What place?" Jon laughed. "Winterfell is your castle. Your Mother still can't look at me and hates that I'm here even if she knows whatever the truth is. All I do is train and mope about in the crypts when I could be doing something useful."

Robb sighed. "Jon…"

"Don't try and persuade me, it won't work." Jon said sharply. "I love my family and I love Winterfell, but the Night's Watch showed me that I can make a life for my own. I can't just sit here knowing what I know and doing nothing but wait."

Robb knew he was right. Running his hand through his hair he sighed again, louder. "Very well." He shook his head, not believing what he was saying. "Go. Go to King's Landing. You can meet your family too, the Queen and your other cousins." Robb added with a hint of venom, not forgiving the Queen truly for scarring him. "But know you'll always have a place here."

Jon smiled quickly. "I know that, and I'll be back. I promise."

"Make sure you do come back." Robb told him, hugging the man he thought was his brother for so long. "I need you by my side, Jon. That's never changed."

Jon nodded, and pulled away to grab Ygritte as the couple ran to get a bag packed, and not long later, Robb stood next to his own wife as they watched from the battlements as the carts disappeared into the distance, with Jon, Ygritte, and a handful of other Stark soldiers on them.

"He'll be fine." Roslin said.

Robb knew that. "I know, it doesn't make this any easier though." He told her, rocking a snoozing Edwyle in his arms as the light snowfall finally hid the carts from vision.

* * *

Far to the North, past the Wall and near to where the Antler River branched into three different streams, a lone woman dressed in a slim red dress that seemed completely inappropriate for the amount of snow raining down was cooking a rabbit over her fire. Soon settling down she finished a bit of leg and stored the rest away.

The Red Woman was used to being in her own company, but there was something about being North of the Wall on her own that was extremely unsettling. The howling wind and the strong snowfall that night was giving the impression of Melisandre being surrounded by predators, although the Lord of Light would keep her safe.

As her thoughts turned from the cold to the Lord, Melisandre prepared herself to stare into the fire.

" _ **Lord, grace me with your eyes. Show me your plans for me in stopping the Great Other and why I must be so far from your flames.**_ " She whispered in her native language of the Asshai'i. " _ **I have done all you asked of me to aid us in this fight, but my role remains yet hidden. Help me, teach me.**_ "

She repeated the request, and then repeated it again. A dozen times Melisandre said the words over and over until the flames began to spit, dimming for a moment before roaring back into life shooting a couple of feet into the air. On her hands and knees in the snow, Melisandre peered closer in to the flames to see the vision.

The snow in the flames were heavier than anything that Melisandre had ever seen. Corpse after corpse slowly traipsed in a single direction. In the distance however were two mounted figures. One with skin of an icy blue, with piercing blue eyes and his head resembled a crown of large thorns it seemed. The Night King. Hitching her breath, Melisandre whispered. " _ **So that is what he looks like.**_ " He watched as he slowly held his arm out to the figure next to him.

It was a woman, a woman with dark purple hair and the same blue piercing eyes as the Night King and a striking but slightly tattered red dress. Breathing quickly in absolute terror, Melisandre backed away as the woman in the vision took the Night King's hand and the two rode forwards.

Catching her breath as the flames died down to a normal fire once more, Melisandre stared at the fire, her mind racing. " _ **So…**_ " She said in her native tongue. " _ **That's how we win.**_ "


	42. Dracarys

The first thing Durran and Dany did as soon as they arrived back inside the Red Keep was to head directly to Maegor's Holdfast to find their children. Unexpectedly, they almost walked directly into their giggling daughter.

"Mama!" Elaenor screamed excitedly when she realised who she had bumped into. Daenerys picked her daughter up and held her close.

"What are you doing out here little one?" Dany asked softly. Durran however had seen his daughter's new playmate and couldn't take his eyes off of it.

"Daenerys." He said slowly. Dany looked at her husband, before following his eye line to a small, golden dragon with some black scales on its spine.

"By the Seven…" Dany trailed.

"Dragon!" Elaenor squealed, as the new born dragon flapped its wings and landed on Elaenor's shoulder. "Mama I have dragon!"

"That's excellent." Dany beamed, not being able to contain her excitement.

"Baratheon colours… how fitting." Ser Barristan said from behind them. At that moment a serving girl came rushing round the corner of the corridor shouting for the princess.

"Oh! Your Grace, Your Grace." She curtseyed to the King and Queen. "I apologise."

The girl had clearly been singed by dragon flame judging by the scorch marks on her dress, and Dany smiled at the young girl. "No need, go and take the day off and take that dress to my own seamstress. By the looks of it we'll need a few more dresses made for everyone in the Red Keep."

"Another dragon…" Durran said, still bewildered. "What of Duncan?"

"His is still an egg." Elaenor said carefully so she didn't stumble over her words.

"It will hatch one day." Dany said happily. "You are both blood of the Dragon."

The hatchling stood tall and flapped it's wings again, staying on the shoulder of its new owner and causing her to giggle. "What about a name?" Durran asked.

Dany thought for a moment as she began to walk towards the children's chambers. "Stormfyre." She decided.

"Stormy!" Elaenor cried happily, stroking the dragon on its nose.

"Stormfyre it is." Durran agreed.

Elaenor grew impatient at being carried then, and as Dany sat her down the Dragon flew into the air. "Come Stormy!" Elaenor giggled, as she ran as fast as her little legs could carry her back towards her chambers, leaving Durran and Dany to both hurry behind her trying to keep up.

* * *

The initial shock of the newly hatched dragon in King's Landing died down after a few weeks, to which the next thing for the King to worry over was the few rocky islands off the coast of the Westerlands. Durran was holding court when through the doors to the throne room came a woman wearing an armoured breastplate showing the kraken sigil.

"Presenting Yara, of House Greyjoy." The herald announced. Durran sat up straight, his hand tightening against one of the sword handles on the arm of the Iron Throne.

"Lady Greyjoy." Durran announced coldly. "Have you come to surrender on behalf of your people? Your desecration of the North is still fresh in my mind."

"My Father was an ill man." Yara spat. "Your own Father humbled us more than he could take, and he spent his last years pining over glory we could never obtain. That war was a folly and it cost him everything."

"Good." Durran didn't hold back his animosity for the Ironborn.

"But my brother had lost enough." Yara snapped back, equally as angry. "And Stark sent him back to be slaughtered."

This gained Durran's intrigue. He had heard that Theon Greyjoy had been found mutilated and his mind gone from Robb, and that he had been sent back to the Iron Islands to pay respects to his late Father. "He was sent back because it was the only place that he would be safe."

"Safe?" Yara laughed. "The Islands aren't safe, not anymore. That's why I'm here. Believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn't be here."

"Have care how you speak to your King." Ser Creighton Redfort, the knew Vale knight of the Kingsguard after Podrick had taken up the red lined armour of the Westerlands, warned the woman.

"If he is my King then let him prove it!" Yara exclaimed. "My Uncle, Euron, murdered my Father and tore my Brother to pieces! He now sits the Seastone chair and plans to take the Iron Throne and your wife for his own. He builds his fleet as we speak."

Leaning back and taking in the information, Durran said. "He wishes to take the Throne?"

"Aye." Yara nodded.

"And the Queen, I presume he wishes to murder me and force himself upon her?"

"That's what he said." Yara confirmed.

Grinning, Durran simply replied. "Let him try."

* * *

Later that evening Durran and Dany were sat alone having their dinner when the topic of Yara's arrival came up.

"You didn't seem worried about the threat of Euron Greyjoy." Dany noted.

Durran swallowed his mouthful and shook his head. "Why should I be? He's nothing more than a brute. He can shout and boast all he wants but he won't ever be able to take King's Landing, nor will he ever sit on the Iron Throne. The Ironborn haven't bee truly fearsome since the days of Harren the Black."

Shaking her head, Dany wasn't convinced. "He still needs putting down Durran. He names himself King!"

"What would you have me do?" Durran asked sharply. "By the time it takes to march over to the West, to raise a fleet and to assault the Iron Islands it will likely be too late to deal with him, and then there's the North to think about. Let him fester on his islands and when the North is dealt with we can turn our attention to the Ironborn."

"I can do something now." Dany told him bluntly, to which Durran grinned in amusement.

"You are heavy with child my love." He shook his head. "No."

Dany's eyes narrowed. "You once promised me that you would never forbid me. You swore that we would rule together, to fight together. Just like at Sow's Horn I have the means to end this problem before it grows enough to damage us."

"But unlike Sow's Horn you are carrying my child." Durran reminded her.

"I shall not be harmed." Dany tried to convince him. "I am in complete control of the dragons and their fleet isn't ready yet. Trust me."

"I trust you with my life." Durran told her, taking one of her hands in his own. "But again, I don't want to lose you."

"Dārys is already the size of Vhagar was at the time of his death." Dany told him softly. "Rhaellar is just a touch smaller and even Aelyx is bigger than a war ship. Three dragons together, firing on your enemies and giving them practice for the true fight."

"Dany…" Durran tried once more, but the Targaryen cut him off.

"I am going." She told him. "You know it's the best plan you just fear for my life. I appreciate your concern my love, but I will not be a Queen that sits by and watches as our enemies grow stronger. I shall prove my house words on this tyrant and grant you back the final Kingdom that evades us."

Running his hands over his face in exasperation, Durran then slammed them on the table in frustration. "I could have the Kingsguard keep you here."

Dany just laughed. "You couldn't bring yourself to do that even if you wanted to." She said jovially.

Sighing, Durran knew she was right. "I have conditions."

"Name them." Dany replied.

"You will take me to Casterly Rock, I want to be close enough to be able to rally at least some men in case." Durran told her.

"Of course." Dany nodded.

"You wear the best armour that Tobho Mott can make, I want my son protected." Durran added, presuming the gender of his next child. "And you swear to me on our children that if the resistance is too much, you get out of there and we focus on the North."

Smiling, Dany stood up and walked over to Durran, kissing him gently on the lips. "I understand your concerns, but I can do this." She whispered, taking his hand and leading him to their bed.

* * *

Hundreds of miles to the North, the Lord of Winterfell was sat in his solar with Maester Luwin trying to organise the stores. "6,000 bushels will likely be enough to feed the current occupants of the castle for around 5 years." Luwin was explaining. "But when the Long Night comes Lord Stark, the armies that will converge on the North will eat through that in a year at most, more likely less time."

Robb shook his head. "We will need at least 10,000 by the turn of the year. Write to the Lords of the North and explain that if the Wall falls then as they'll all be fleeing to Winterfell anyway they must send what they can to Winterfell so that they aren't lumbered with carrying food as they flee."

"My Lord." Luwin bowed his head.

Roslin, who was sat in the corner of the room looking after a playing Brandon, popped her head up. "Send a raven to my Father too."

Robb wasn't so sure that it was a good idea. "Your Father isn't the most reasonable of men…"

Roslin chuckled. "I know, but I've received more letters from him since I've been with you at Winterfell than words spoken to me while I lived at the Twins. He cares about his Stark grandchild, he won't let us starve."

"I shall pen a letter to Lord Walder in your name, Lord Stark." Luwin said, standing up to leave. The elderly Maester was interrupted by the door bursting open and a guard running in.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" Robb asked, annoyed. "I asked not to be disturbed."

"Sorry… Sorry Milord." The guard panted. "The courtyard… there's a cart… says he's a Stark."

Robb lost all annoyance at the guard's words. "Bran…" He whispered to himself, before quickly making his way out to the courtyard.

Sure enough there was a cart in the middle of the yard with a host of people gathered around. Robb pushed his way through towards the front of the cart, where a young man was sat in the driver's seat listening to Rickon chatter away, covered in a cloak made of rabbit pelts. Robb just stared on in shock, drinking in the sight of his younger brothers.

"Where's Jojen?" Rickon asked. The wildling woman, Osha, stepped towards the younger Stark, quietly shushing him.

"Come now little Lord." She said, keeping an eye on Robb. "We can talk to Lord Bran later."

"But…" Rickon began, but he saw Robb too and nodded. "I'm glad you're home Bran."

"Me too." Bran said monotonously, looking at Robb. "Hello Robb."

Feeling a lump in his throat, Robb stepped forward and crashed into his brother, giving him a fierce hug. "I thought you dead." Robb whispered. "I thought you dead…"

"I survived." Bran said in the same tone. "As did you."

"Barely." Robb said as he pulled away, shaking his head. He turned to the girl that had arrived with Bran who was looking at the scene sadly. "You must be Meera."

"Yes, Lord Stark." She bowed her head. Robb shook his own and stepped towards her, shaking her hand.

"It's Robb to you." He said quietly so only she and Bran could hear. "Thank you, Meera, for looking after him."

Meera smiled weakly. "It was my duty." She said, looking, trying to hide a longing at Bran.

Robb nodded knowingly, though he could see Bran was oblivious. "My wife will see you to a room for you to rest, Meera." He said, pointing out Roslin behind him.

"Lady Roslin." Bran said politely.

Roslin was surprised at how he knew her but curtseyed anyway. "Lord Bran. How wonderful it is to have you home."

Bran said nothing, and Robb stepped towards him once more. "I can get you some warmer clothes too if you like?" He asked. Bran just nodded and moved so that Robb could pick him up and carry him to his old room.

The Stark Lord forewent any servants and helped his younger brother change into a set of Robb's own clothes, and he was surprised at how tall Bran had gotten when the trouser leg was a little too short. Bran waved it off though as Robb laced up some boots and settled Bran in a chair.

"We'll have one with wheels made for you." Robb told his brother. "You can be a bit more independent that way now that Hodor…"

"He died to protect me." Bran interrupted in his now signature monotone. "He kept the wights off us so that Meera and I could escape."

"You've seen them then?" Robb said quietly.

Bran nodded. "I have. And I've seen the Night King." He told Robb, rubbing his wrist uncomfortably. "I've walked among them, in a way." That worried Robb, as he turned defensive, causing Bran to smile quickly. "In a vision, I still breath."

Breathing in relaxation, Robb sat down on the bed beside Bran. "I've had a vision too."

"You saw Uncle Benjen and Aunt Lyanna by the Weirwood." Bran stated. "They were arguing about Rhaegar."

"How do you know that?" Robb asked bewildered.

"I know many things now." Bran told him. "I see everything. Everything that's ever happened and everything happening now. I saw you get those burns and I saw you pick up a wooden sword for the first time."

Robb didn't truly understand, but the fact that Bran knew the details about his vision was enough to believe him. "Do you know when they're coming?"

"Not yet." Bran said. "But I will. I need to be ready for my role in the war to come."

* * *

It took two weeks for Durran to agree that Dany was well enough protected, and another few days of changing his mind again and again until Dany had dragged her husband onto Rhaellar's back and flown him and the other adult dragons over to Casterly Rock. The next morning, he had awoken and just like all those years before when Durran was fighting his now friend, Dany had gone with her dragons. The King couldn't even eat for a day, which worried his brother.

"Starving yourself won't bring her back any quicker." Tommen told him on the second day of Dany being gone, pouring out a wine. Durran shook his head, but Tommen insisted. "Drink, it'll calm the nerves."

Scoffing in amusement, Durran sipped at the Arbor Red. "Since when have you told me what to do little brother?" He asked with a smile.

"Since His Grace was acting like a dog waiting for his master to return." Tommen shrugged. "She'll be back soon."

"What if she's dead?" Durran sighed. "Or worse, what if he's captured her?"

"Your Queen is made of sterner stuff than that." Tommen told him, the 15-year-old acting much older than his age suggested. "I've never known a more capable woman, Sow's Horn proved that."

"That was burning a war camp that was unprepared." Durran waved it off. "This is different, this is…"

He was silenced by the bells ringing in Casterly Rock. "Arrivals." Tommen explained, and Durran rushed off his feet to get to a balcony overlooking the sea.

The size of the Rock meant it took twenty minutes to reach one that was high enough, and Durran stared out solemnly as ships bearing multiple House banners on their sails were spotted. House Drumm, Blacktyde, Harlaw, Goodbrother and Sunderly were among the ones that Durran recognised.

"No…" Durran whispered, his heart breaking. He shouldn't have worried however, as at that moment barrelling down through the clouds came a pale white dragon with bronze markings. Rhaellar and her rider, Daenerys Targaryen.

Breathing raggedly in relief, Durran then started to laugh aloud as he hugged his brother tightly before they made their way to the Great Hall of the Rock, where Tommen sat in his throne, with Daven Lannister at his side. Durran stood, waiting for the moment that his Queen walked through the doors. When she did, he threw all formality out and rushed to greet her.

"Never again. Not without me and not without an army." He whispered in her ear as the Lords of the Iron Islands streamed in.

"There was no trouble, not really." Dany whispered back. "Let me tell all of what happened.

And so she did. Dany explained how she fell on Lordsport at dawn, using her great dragons to burn the ships in the harbour and in the dockyards, halting the process entirely. She explained at how a score of soldiers rushed from the castle of Pyke, and how they all burned before she turned her attention to the castle. "Euron Greyjoy was on one of the bridges laughing up at me on how pleased I came to his bed of my own free will, and that he wanted the biggest dragon for himself." Dany explained. "Pyke now is short a few towers, and Euron Greyjoy is nothing but charred fish food."

"Whore." One of the Ironborn captains shouted, earning Durran's ire. He turned towards where the voice had come from but was beaten to it by Lord Rodrik Harlaw.

"Silence yourself Steffarion." The Lord growled. "Or do you want your line to end today?"

"Fuck off, Reader." The young man said. "I won't sit hear in fetters listening to the dragon whore brag about her cheap tactics."

"Worse is coming you fucking idiot." Lord Goodbrother growled. "For once in your life shut up."

The new Lord of House Sparr just spat on the ground. "Others take you all."

"Take him outside." Dany commanded, and surprisingly the Lannister soldiers obeyed. "Feed him to Dārys, he could do with a snack."

The man didn't complain, he just laughed manically as he was dragged out of the room. "Anybody else?" Durran asked, daring them all.

"The old way is done." Lord Rodrik spoke to the Ironborn. "Balon was my sister's husband, and he gave me nephews and a niece but look where his madness has got us. I warned you all about following Euron and he killed our rightful Lord brutally and brought the dragons upon us. The time to change is now."

"Aye." Lord Drumm sighed in defeat. "I like it not, but all the signs point to a winter worse than any I've seen. You may have believed him a madman, but the things Balon's youngest tried warning us about still haunt my dreams."

"It must be bad then, you're fucking ancient." One of the younger lords joked, causing a few laughs between them all.

"I am!" Drumm grinned. "And I know when I'm beaten. Twice in a lifetime by these fuckers." He got to one knee. "Spare my family, Baratheon, and you'll have my loyalty."

Durran had been around enough Northerners to understand there was no true malice towards him, just the situation. "I think the destruction of Pyke is enough, so long as you all follow suit."

Some grumbled, some were even more reluctant, but eventually all the Ironborn lords bent the knee, although surprisingly enough for her, they bent towards Dany.

* * *

It was Rodrik Harlaw that explained it all later as the King and Queen ate with him as their new Lord Paramount. "They respect strength above all else, and not a great deal will be stronger than appearing with a dragon, burning a few of our family ships and forcing us to the mainland under pain of death."

"So long as this isn't a ruse." Durran warned. "If it is, I'll do exactly as my Father once did, but I won't be as merciful."

Rodrik smiled weakly. "I've been alive for three wars and now this. I swear, we are done trying to prove something we can no longer accomplish."

"Good, because we need you." Dany told him kindly. "Your Valyrian swords, they will be vital in the war to come."

"Send us word, Your Grace." Rodrik bowed his head to her. "As much as most won't like it, they will follow you. It's the watery halls of the Drowned God we long for, not your beasts' flames."

They spoke for a while longer, before Rodrik bid the royals farewell and prepared to leave for the islands again. Dany and Durran began to settle themselves in bed, and they cuddled up to one another talking about what had just happened.

"They follow you, not me." Durran remarked.

"Are you mad?" Dany asked.

Grinning, Durran kissed her forehead and ran his thumb along her belly. "Not at all, I thought I might be but like you say, we rule together. We fight together. We are one, you and I."

Smiling, King and Queen kissed once more before settling down to sleep, not realising that by the time they arrived back in King's Landing a few days later that everything would change.


	43. The Calm Before the Storm

Bran Stark's eyes turned from plain white back to their normal shade of blue in an instant, as the cripple gasped at the scene he had just seen North of the Wall.

"Ravens." He managed to get out. "We need to send ravens."

"What did you see?" Luwin asked, the elder man finally coming around to accept that Bran could have visions now.

"Him." Was all Bran could say, his voice portraying the deadly seriousness that his words heralded. "I saw him. He's coming to Eastwatch. Everyone needs to know."

"How long have we got?" Luwin asked.

Bran shook his head. "Not long enough."

The sense of haunting despair was lifted at the cries of the ten-year-old Rickon Stark, as the young boy came running into the Godswood with a huge grin on his face. "BRAN! BRAN SHE'S BACK!"

The Three Eyed Raven almost smiled, as he allowed Maester Luwin to take the back of his chair and wheel him towards the entrance of the Godswood where Rickon was waiting for someone. As he neared, he heard his younger brother say happily. "I told you Mother, I have a present for you!"

A woman entered the Godswood, her head covered by a shawl and a thick cloak around her shoulders, but her hands came shakily up to her shawl as she saw the wheelchair and its occupant. Freeing her hair, Cat's hand then went to her mouth. "You're alive." She barely whispered. "You're alive."

"Hello Mother." Bran said as Luwin stopped the chair just in front of Catelyn and Rickon. That did it, as Catelyn began weeping uncontrollably, throwing herself at her middle son. She sobbed into his shoulder for a time before reaching out and dragging Rickon into the hug as well, ignoring the younger boy's squirming.

"My sons. My boys." She whispered, repeating it over and over again until her voice was wearing out. "I thought you were gone."

"There were moments when it was close." Bran admitted sullenly.

Cat pulled away eventually and couldn't help her smile. "Never again. I will keep you safe, I swear it."

"What's for supper?" Rickon asked suddenly, his attention span limited. Catelyn laughed again, tears still falling.

"Shall we go and find out?" She asked him. Rickon nodded excitedly, taking Cat's hand as they walked towards the Great Hall. Bran was being pushed by Maester Luwin behind them, his eyes turning white as he found himself back in the past once again unbeknownst to his Mother.

* * *

When the King and Queen arrived back at King's Landing, they had barely been able to settle back in when a ship from White Harbour was announced to have entered the city. They both rushed off to get changed, Durran once again settling on a doublet of his house colours and a black cape of Lyseni silk, with Dany choosing a pale blue dress that Durran had made for her last nameday.

Sat on the Throne once again Durran was surprised to see Jon Snow walking in, a pair of Stark soldiers flanking him.

"Your Grace." Jon said, lowering himself to one knee.

"Rise, Lord Commander." Durran bid him, looking at Dany, confused as to why he was there, not noticing the shake of the head from Stannis towards the newcomer. "You're a long way from the Wall, and not in the colour I would expect of a member of the Night's Watch."

Jon got back to his feet and nodded nervously. "Aye, there's a story there that's best spoken while alone Your Grace."

Even more confused, Durran leant back into the Throne. "Why are you here then, Jon Snow?"

"With a request from myself, to be able to travel to Dragonstone and aid in the mining efforts, and gifts from my co… brother, Lord Stark, to Her Grace the Queen." Jon replied. "One is on my ship, the other on my hip." Jon undid his sword belt, placing the weapon in both hands, before kneeling again and offering it out to Durran.

Durran gestured to Ser Barristan to go and take the sword, and the elderly knight did as bid, stopping suddenly before he ran his hands along the scabbard.

"How did you come by this sword?" Barristan asked Jon impatiently.

"The story is a long one, Ser." Jon replied. "I would prefer it to be told in a more private setting."

Durran was confused, until Ser Barristan took the sword and brought it up to the Iron Throne. "I've only seen this blade once before, Your Grace." The old man whispered. "When I was knighted by King Aegon himself, he dubbed me with this sword and swore that I would be one of the greatest knights of the realm one day, and only a Valyrian Steel sword was fitting. That's Dark Sister."

His eyes widening in recognition, he took one look at a confused Daenerys up in the gallery before looking beside him at Stannis, who was also staring in awe at the sword. "Court is over for the day." He stated. "Jon, follow me."

Standing, he strode through the doors to the Small Council room, followed by only Ser Barristan, Stannis, Daenerys and Jon. "What's going on?" Dany asked.

"Yes, I'd like to know that as well." Stannis said, taking off his eyepatch for comfort.

"How did you get this blade?" Barristan asked Jon.

Sighing, Jon sat down in a random chair and ran his hand through his hair. "It was in my Mother's tomb." He said quietly.

Durran grew even more confused. "Your Mother? I thought she was a wet nurse? How does a wet nurse have a tomb?"

"I've been lied to." Jon said, gritting his teeth in anger. "All my life."

Dany walked over and sat beside Jon, taking his hand in her own. "Take your time." She said gently.

Sighing, Jon began, detailing the story of how he had been betrayed by his brothers at the Night's Watch and executed for aiding the Wildling's. How he and his Wildling wife had fled the Wall for the safety of Winterfell and finished on how he had come to learn of the truth of his parentage. "I was never told who my Mother was. All my life I'd ask Lord Stark and he would just tell me that I was his blood and that was the end of the discussion. The last time I saw him, he told me that we would talk about her the next time we spoke. I realise now it was because I'd be at the Wall, unable to do anything with the knowledge."

"I don't understand why she is such a secret." Durran admitted, having barely recovered from the sight of the scars Jon showed as proof.

"Because Lord Eddard wasn't my Father." Jon told them, causing silence in the Small Council chamber as the news settled over them all.

Ser Barristan was the first to react, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he gently grasped Jon's face to look deeper into his eyes. "Your Mother… Ashara?" He asked softly.

Jon just shook his head, and Durran swore he saw Barristan sag his shoulders in disappointment. "No, my Mother was Lyanna Stark." Jon told them.

The cogs began to turn in Durran's head at that, but before he could work anything out Dany raised her hands to her mouth and gasped. "It was you!" She said, muffled. "She was pregnant with you?"

"What are you talking about?" Durran asked.

Dany looked up at him, nervous. "Do you remember when I was talking to your Mother and told you about my visions?" Durran nodded. "I saw one more. I saw my brother, Rhaegar, and Lyanna Stark talking. She was pregnant."

Durran didn't know what to think. He opened and closed his mouth a number of times before settling on. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because they were wed." Dany told him, and the implications of that became clear to everyone in the room.

"Then that means…" Durran said staring at Jon.

"It means that I am a trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen. They named me Aegon." He said bitterly, before standing once more and dropping to his knee again. "But I swear to you, Your Grace, I do not want this. All I want is to be the bastard son of Ned Stark, I swear to you on the Old Gods and the New that I will be no threat to you, I renounce my claim on the Throne here, before you."

Durran would be lying if he had said that hearing that wasn't a relief, and he bid Jon to rise. "I appreciate that. I know you would never have sought the Throne Jon… Aegon, sorry."

"Jon." The man in question corrected. "I am Jon, I've always been Jon and I will always be Jon."

"Forgive me for being the cynic, but how do we know this is all true?" Stannis asked. "I do not deny that your parents could well have been Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark but aren't we forgetting that the Prince was already wed? Are we to trust the visions of a deceitful God and the words of one man?"

"No." Jon shrugged. "But Lyanna's diary might help." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a tattered book, handing it to Stannis. "And my other gift for you, my Queen, is your brother's harp. Brought to Winterfell as proof in case this story ever came out."

Dany couldn't contain herself much longer and making sure she was careful of her baby bump, she reached in to hug her nephew. "Thank you, Aegon." She whispered.

Durran was still shocked at all the revelations and said slowly. "I think we should all reconvene in the morning. This news is heavy for us all."

The others agreed, and Stannis began to walk Jon back to his ship, the pair speaking in hushed tones. The King however just stood there, staring into space trying to process all that just happened.

* * *

Jon found himself waylaid as he made his way back to the ship, and for some reason walked from Aegon's High Hill over to the Hill of Rhaenys, where the empty ruins of the Dragonpit could be found.

He stopped by the entrance and just took in the scene in front of him. The jagged remains of the giant dome that Jon had only ever read about in the library of Winterfell stood out, closely followed however by the giant snoozing black dragon at the other end of the pit. His two guards backed off slightly, but Jon was only curious and crept forwards slowly.

"What are you doing?" One of the guards hissed informally, something that Jon had insisted on one day on the boat after his protection had stumbled over what title to call him.

"It's ok." Jon said, with confidence he wasn't sure where it had come from. He carried on walking forwards, walking past the steps that went deep into the bowels of the hill, when suddenly a roar came, and another dragon, smaller but no less fearsome, flew above Jon in a circle before landing in front of him. Aelyx lowered his head towards the ground and shuffled forwards, growling at Jon. He stood his ground though, something within him compelling him to stay still. The dragon's face was soon inches away from Jon's, and after a bit of a sniff Aelyx seemed to relax slightly, giving off what Jon considered a scoff before the dragon turned away and flew up towards the section of the Dragonpit that he had claimed for his own.

"He senses your confusion." A soft voice came from behind Jon. He turned around and saw Queen Daenerys, flanked by Ser Perwyn. "He can tell that you don't know who you are."

"How am I supposed to?" Jon replied, with a hint of bitterness in his voice. "All my life I've been the bastard of Winterfell, shunned and ignored because of who I was, but now I've died and been brought back to life solely because of my blood, I'm apparently a legitimate member of House Targaryen, and everything I learned about my Mother was a lie."

"It's enough to drive anybody crazy." Dany admitted, as Rhaellar was seen in the air with Aelyx. "We don't have easy lives in our House. I was a prisoner for most of my life, kept in the underbelly of the Red Keep with only the spymaster for a companion until one day Durran came exploring and found me. Now I'm the Queen of a realm that despises my House, I've had to be a witness to my brother being executed and until my niece was born, I was alone."

"I don't know how to think, I don't know how to react." Jon admitted. "My Grandfather murdered my Grandfather."

"I only have the one." Dany admitted. "Our family doesn't make sense in Westerosi rules, but it won't be that way again. We have a chance, Jon, to take our name and go 'no, we aren't that family anymore.' We have a chance to be better."

"I don't know if I can do that. I've been Jon for so long I don't think I can be Aegon." Jon told her.

Dany smiled up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Then don't. You may have been named Aegon, but you are who you say you are, nobody else. Be Aegon Targaryen, be Jon Snow. Be Jon Targaryen it doesn't matter. What matters is that we beat back the Long Night and do everything we can to win." She turned to Ser Perwyn, who handed her a hand and a half sword, the hilt with a giant ruby in the middle. Dany turned back to Jon and handed him the sword. "Whether you consider yourself a Targaryen or not, the fact that Aelyx didn't burn you alive while alone shows me that you are my kin, and while I cannot wield this sword, you can."

Jon took the hilt in his right hand and withdrew it slightly. "Is this…" He began.

"Blackfyre. Recovered from Viserys after his defeat at Summerhall." Dany said. "Now that Dark Sister is back in the Red Keep it's only fitting that the sword of the Conqueror go to a man capable of wielding it in battle, and I shall fight the Long Night with the sword of our ancestor's sister, Visenya."

Jon quickly sheathed the sword again, handing it back. "I can't accept this."

"You can, and you will." Dany said firmly. "We need all the Valyrian Steel we can get, and you gave yours up, so Lord Stannis told me. Take it, and maybe that will help you decide one way or another who you are."

Daenerys left Jon standing there, staring at the sword that had such a fabled history and trying to keep the urge away of allowing himself to dream of joining those fabled heroes in the history books.

* * *

An emergency Small Council meeting had been called by Stannis the day after Jon had arrived. The entire Small Council was there, and an extra chair had been set aside for Jon and his wife, although Durran found it amusing when Jon said that Ygritte had politely refused because she 'knelt to no man'. There was a single raven scroll in the middle of the table, bearing the seal of House Stark.

"I thought Bran was dead." Jon told everyone.

"A cripple boy, surviving North of the Wall for all this time." Randyll Tarly said pompously, nodding his head in respect.

"Have care how you speak, My Lord." Jon said coldly. "In my experience at the Wall those deemed unworthy due to physical limitations are often ten times as brave as those in peak condition. Your son among them."

Lord Tarly looked like he wanted to argue back, but a stern look from Stannis stopped the Reachman in his tracks. The Baratheon then went on to reread the letter. "Are we to truly believe that the boy has visions given to him by a tree?"

"The Heart trees are more than just decoration, Lord Hand." Jon explained. "They're the eyes of the Gods. My brother had such a vision when he made a sacrifice of the traitor Ramsay Snow."

Durran noticed a couple of the Southerners bristle at that statement. "We must treat his words as fact in any case." He said. "We at this council know that visions and prophecy exist in one way or another. Training to be a Greenseer seems as good a reason as any for a boy that can't walk to survive closer to the Land of Always Winter than any of us here have ever been."

Jon appreciated that. "With your leave I'd like to go to Dragonstone and ensure that the Dragonglass is being mined at a greater pace."

Durran nodded. "We need all that we can get. Take as many men as you need to aid you."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Jon bowed his head.

"We also need to start thinking of the defence of the North." Tarly told them all.

"Robb has called his banners. Those in the South will gather at Winterfell while Lords Umber and Karstark will amass at Eastwatch to aid the Night's Watch." Jon explained. "That was the plan before I left at least."

Durran was happy with that. "We can have the Vale and Riverlords start gathering and training now, but I want all those in the South at King's Landing now." He commanded, turning to Pycelle who had began to snore. "Pycelle!" Durran roared, startling the old man as a faint smell of urine appeared.

"Uh... Your… Your Grace." The old man stammered.

"Were you even listening?" Durran asked, annoyed. Pycelle just stared at him blankly. "Call the Banners. Dorne, the Stormlands and the Reach. I want every single man above the age of 14 marching to King's Landing in order to protect the realm. Any woman that wishes to fight, will be allowed but I shall not force them. The time has come to gather."

Pycelle nodded and began to gather his papers slowly. "Your Grace." He said feebly, limping out of the room slowly.

"I swear if I die I'm going to haunt him until his heart gives out." Durran said through clenched teeth, before calming himself. "Lord Randyll, you shall drill the armies and be my second in command."

"Your Grace." Randyll bowed, as Durran turned to Stannis.

"I would give you the choice Uncle. Rule in my stead in King's Landing or lead the Stormlands as is your title."

Stannis thought for a second. "I've seen the Night's Watch, they need all the help they can get. I would have Stefan in King's Landing in my stead though. If you allow it, he can rule as Hand in my stead."

Durran shook his head. "I need as many abled warriors as I can, and Stefan is certainly able."

"We will still need someone here to rule." Varys said.

"And we shall have it." Durran nodded. "Someone write this down." Ser Barristan was the first one to act. "I want a council of regents while I am away, and if I should fall these shall continue to rule as regents until Duncan comes of age. Myrcella. Willas Tyrell. Lady Anya Waynwood. Varys, and the Queen Mother."

"Your Grace honours me." Varys said, bowing his head.

"I better be able to trust you." Durran warned the eunuch. He then turned to Daenerys. "I presume you're not staying?"

"You'll need the Dragons." Was her response. "You'll need me."

"I will." Durran admitted, before turning back to the Council. "Ser Barristan, break it gently to Ser Balon, but he is to stay and protect the Prince. He can choose however many more of the Gold Cloaks that stay behind to aid him."

"Your Grace." Ser Barristan bowed his head. "I presume the rest of us are going to be at your side?"

"Naturally." Durran nodded, before finally looking towards the Master of Ships. "Is the fleet ready?"

"At your command, Your Grace." Davos Seaworth said.

"How many men can you carry?" Durran asked.

Davos thought for a brief moment. "We have 72 ships ready to sail, so around 7,000."

Durran turned to Stannis. "Will you be my first response Uncle? Sail to White Harbour with the majority of the Crownlands?"

"As you command." Stannis nodded approvingly.

Sighing, Durran felt like everything had been said. "Gentlemen, My Queen." He said. "Whatever happens from this day, know that I was proud to rule with you at my side. For winter will soon be upon us."

* * *

The ravens flew, and the Stark ship had sailed. Before it got dark however Dany had persuaded Durran to join her in the Red Keep's tiltyard. Armed in his Baratheon leathers, he led Ser Barristan and Ser Arys down, where Dany was already stood waiting, getting some pointers from Ser Perwyn Frey.

"My Queen." Durran said, admiring her fierce beauty. Her black chainmail made it look exactly like she was covered in dragon scales and it fit her body perfectly, and a proud red three headed dragon in between her bosom and the sharp red cape flowing from her shoulders made it clear that she fancied herself as a warrior queen of the likes of Visenya.

"I can add some plate here and there." She said, showing off her new armour. "But I think Tobho Mott has done a fine job."

"That he has." Durran admitted, turning to Ser Arys. "See to it that he gets paid again for his efforts."

"I want to learn from the best." Dany admitted, walking up to Durran. "And you're training with Ser Barristan."

"I'm sure we can add another to our group." Durran smirked. "Shall we see what you already know?"

"Not a lot. But I'm learning." Dany grinned, withdrawing Dark Sister from her hip as Durran took out Fury. Understanding one another, Durran waited for Dany to move first as she slowly and slightly clumsily made her first swing at Durran.

The two Valyrian Steel swords clashed, and as Dany was about to withdraw for another swing, a small snowflake landed on her nose. Bringing her free hand up to wipe it away, another landed on her hand. Durran too began to notice the snowfall as he looked up to the sky.

"Snow." Dany muttered, having never seen the stuff before.

Durran nodded grimly. "The Stark's are always right in the end." He said. "Winter has come."

* * *

Far north of the Wall a lone woman had finally come upon her destination, as she stood atop a hill watching the heavy stream of dead men slowly amble towards the Wall. Inside she was absolutely terrified, knowing that while what was about to happen had to take place, the not knowing exactly what was going to happen shook her to her bones.

Melisandre soon spotted the mounted creatures in the distance and her legs began to move towards them. Somehow the dead just ignored her, moving past her as if she just wasn't there as she got closer and closer to the thing they called the Night King.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been an hour until she was stood in front of the now dismounted Night King. They stared at one another for a while, the Night King cocking his head slightly to the side. Melisandre began to chant to R'hllor under her breath, but the Night King held his hand out to stop her.

He said nothing, he made no noise whatsoever, but even so Melisandre understood him. 'Your God can't reach you here.' He was saying.

And he was right. Melisandre tried to defend herself by summoning some of the Red God's fire from within her, but the magic fizzled out on her fingertips, leaving only a tiny cloud of smoke. The Night King took one step closer, holding his hand out to caress her face. His hands were like ice on her skin, and she could tell that he wasn't overly comfortable with the heat either. So much so that in one swift movement he grabbed her by the throat, lifting her in the air.

Gasping for air, she kicked her legs out while trying to punch his arm away, but the Night King held strong. Chanting to R'hllor to protect her, she could only watch as the Night King brought his spare hand to cup her breast, placing his index finger on her heart.

Her breath left her then, as the coldness spread through her body. As her eyes began to fail her, she saw her hair turn a cold Purple colour. She struggled one last time, but soon enough she fell limp.

The Night King put his new prize down on the floor and let her get used to the new magic running through her body. When she looked up at him with the same blue eyes that he had himself, he turned back to his horse, helping his new bride up as he climbed on behind her and continued the march forwards.

* * *


	44. Winter is Here

**307 AC**

The area surrounding King's Landing had almost turned into a second city with all the armies pouring in daily. Men from the Stormlands, the Reach and Dorne had all thankfully put aside their differences in light of the news from the North and had come together to train with one another. Durran often watched from the battlements, and sometimes even went to join in with the training to boost the morale.

The Dragonglass had come in handy too, with the entire Dornish arsenal seemingly being replaced by spears with obsidian tips, and the Marcher Lords who favoured their bows had been equally grateful to receive their new quivers filled with Dragonglass tipped arrows.

The Red Keep had also been busy, for it was only a few weeks after the first snowfall in decades had landed on the streets of King's Landing that the bells of Baelor's Sept were ringing once more, as the King and Queen welcomed baby Gowen into the world. The boy was premature but had since been getting stronger by the day and the Maesters were happy that he wasn't in any risk.

Unfortunately for the little Prince he was mostly left in the care of his Aunt. After arriving in the Capital with her husband and his army Myrcella was more than happy to look after the child as Daenerys spent most of her days practicing with Dark Sister in the tiltyard, and while she would never be a natural swordswoman, Ser Barristan was happy with her progress. Using her small frame to her advantage, she could almost dance around Durran when they sparred, with the King mainly relying on brute strength and willpower.

The pair were at it once again under the oversight of Ser Barristan and Aron Santagar when as Daenerys ducked under a swing from Durran's training sword, a high-pitched screech came from the direction of the castle, followed by a loud giggle. The couple looked up at the balcony, where a young girl was running towards her dragon. The yellow and black beast fanning his wings out against the cool winter air.

"I think that's enough for today, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said, letting the Master of Arms collect the training swords.

"I agree." Durran said unhappily staring at his daughter. Taking his wife's arm in his, they made their way up to where the Princess was chasing after the dragon.

"Elaenor!" Durran called. "What are you doing here?"

The four-year-old girl looked abashed. "Playing with Stormfyre." She said quietly, looking at her feet.

"And what should you be doing?" Dany asked, equally not happy.

"Lessons." Elaenor almost whispered.

"What was that?" Durran prodded.

"Lessons with Septa Jayne." The Princess said louder.

Dany knelt down before her daughter. "Then why are you out here."

"She smells funny." The toddler said scrunching up her nose. Durran had to reign in his amusement. "And she's boring!"

"We all have to do things we don't enjoy my love." Dany told her gently. "But your lessons are important. Go and finish them now, and if Septa Jayne says that you have been good then we shall go down to the Dragonpit after dinner."

That lit the girl's face up into a bright smile, and she nodded, before running back into the Red Keep, the small dragon chasing after her in the air. Durran turned to Ser Balon Swann. "Make sure she stays there." He told the Kingsguard.

"Of course, Your Grace." The knight bowed, before walking quickly after the Princess.

"The looks of a Baratheon, the impatience of a Targaryen." Dany chuckled as the heavy armoured footsteps died away. "What have we raised?"

"A spoiled Princess." Durran groaned. He then noticed Stefan Baratheon walking up to him from the same direction, Durran's cousin having filled the role of temporary Hand with distinction with Stannis' departure to the North. "Cousin."

"Your Grace." Stefan greeted. "The Tyrell's are here."

* * *

Quickly gathering their horses, Durran, Stefan and Ser Barristan rode through the city towards the River Gate, and sure enough around 8,000 men bearing the golden rose of House Tyrell had begun to set up camp on the Southern shore of Blackwater Bay. A single ferry was heading towards them, and so the King, his new Hand and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard waited with an already arrived Mace Tyrell as the heir to Highgarden slowly exited the ferry and moved towards them leaning heavily on his cane. Surprisingly to Durran, Lord Tyrell's Mother was also there.

"Your Grace." Willas bowed his head as low as he could. "Forgive me, I would kneel but…"

"Not to worry, Lord Willas." Durran waved off. "It is a pleasure to welcome you to King's Landing."

"Even under such difficult circumstances." Willas said with half a smile. He said a polite hello to Ser Barristan, before his eyes came upon Stefan. "Brother."

"Willas." Stefan grinned, walking forwards and hugging his wife's cousin with his only arm. "How was the journey?"

"Bumpy." The elderly woman said impatiently. "Your Grace." She curtseyed extravagantly for a woman of that age. "Can we go inside? It's very cold for my old bones."

"Of course." Durran said amusedly. "We have carriages waiting for you."

"We weren't expecting you here, Mother." Mace Tyrell admitted.

"I know, but somebody needed to make sure that things run smoothly while you boys are up in the snows waving your swords around." Olenna stated, offering her arm out for Stefan to take.

"I'm sure Lady Waynwood will be pleased to have another experienced set of eyes on the Council." Durran said, trying to appease the matriarch of House Tyrell.

"Yes, we shall see." Olenna said, ending that conversation. As Stefan took the elderly woman in a carriage with her son, Willas joined the King in another.

"I'm surprised not to see Lady Sansa here with you." Durran admitted.

Willas smiled fondly. "We felt it best to keep her in Highgarden, she felt more peaceful there after the birth than she would have coming back to this place… she likes the snowy gardens, although the comparison with Summer goes straight over my head."

"The summer snows in Winterfell are certainly strange." Durran admitted. "I dread to think of what we're about to walk into. Is the babe healthy?"

"Healthy and robust." Willas said proudly. "She was a bit annoyed at Lord Robb for stealing the name Edwyle, but she settled on Edward."

Durran smiled at the name being an honour to Lord Eddard. "It's those babes that we fight this fight for, so that they can grow up in a world and not be taken from it before their time."

"Can we win?" Willas asked solemnly. "I've done enough reading of the legends to know that the last time, if records are right, it took scores of magic users, giants and the Children of the Forest to keep them back, and they couldn't destroy the Walkers."

"They didn't have Dragons." Durran said proudly. "They didn't have the Valyrian Steel that we know destroys Walkers, and they didn't have us. Andal warriors' side by side with the First Men against the first enemy."

Willas looked slightly more at peace with that, though no matter how inspiring Durran tried to be, neither of them truly knew the enemy that they were about to face.

* * *

Winterfell was also a scene of action, as the Lords and Ladies South of Winterfell had brought their men to the Castle, while Lords Karstark and Umber had travelled to Eastwatch to aid the Wildlings and the Night's Watch. Robb had only received one raven of trouble, but thankfully the Umber Lord had made it clear to his men of what was coming for them, and all the living had put their grievances to the side for now.

Things in the Stark family had been a bit strained too. Cat now spent most of her time with Rickon and her grandchildren after discovering what had happened to Bran, and his declaration that he wasn't just Bran anymore seemed to have broken her heart. Things weren't helped when Jon and Ygritte returned from Dragonstone talking about the Valyrian styled castle and wielding the ancient sword of Kings. Cat had felt guilty for her past, but now instead of looking at the man and seeing her husband's infidelity, she now just saw Ned's trust in her shattered. Robb tried to manage it as best as he could, but it was a struggle. Thankfully his wife and his boys could ease his mind. Gone were the days of him bemoaning promising to wed one of Lord Walder's daughters to cross a bridge, and the weeks after Edwyle was born really helped bring a true feeling of friendship and love to his relationship with Roslin.

He told his Mother that one morning, who had just smiled happily. "It was like that with your Father too." She said to him. "We had a friendship after you were born of course but being together when Sansa came into the world really helped us grow to love one another."

"History repeats itself." Robb chuckled to himself. "More and more these days it seems."

Catelyn noticed the serious tone in his voice. "We're ready to go when needed." She told him. "We'll head to Riverrun immediately, but eventually I think we'll need to move to either the Eyrie or King's Landing."

"King's Landing." Robb said firmly. "The Eyrie is unreachable in Winter, and I spoke to the King about Aunt Lysa and Robin while I was there… it's not good. Robin pines after his Mother and her mind is by all accounts truly gone. I'm sorry Mother. All they are waiting for is for Robin to be old enough and sire a son to be brought up with the King's own children."

Cat looked angry but sighed after a moment. "She never was right after the duel. She even was kept alone for a number of weeks, I wonder if that's what set her off."

"I did suggest him coming to stay with us in Winterfell once all this is over." Robb said, trying to sound confident in their chances.

Cat smiled. "I'd like that."

The conversation ended once the doors swung open, and Jon and Ygritte walked in laughing about something. Once they saw Catelyn they fell silent. Cat meanwhile just stood up and excused herself, saying nothing.

"Thank you." Jon whispered to Ygritte.

"I don't know why you pussyfoot around her." The Wildling shrugged.

Robb kept his cool. "Out of respect for me, which I'm grateful for." He added to Jon.

"The latest shipment is here." Jon said. "That's enough arrows and spearheads for three times as many men as we have here, and more were sent to Riverrun and King's Landing too. We're as ready as we'll ever be with weapons."

"Good." Robb said, feeling some relief. "We'll need every last arrowhead."

His ominous words seemed even more so as Maester Luwin came into the Great Hall, a grim look on his face. "A raven, Lord Stark. From Last Hearth."

Robb's eyes went wide in horror. He snatched the raven letter from the Maester's hands and read it, his hand shaking as he went on. He threw the letter down on the table as he was finished, and let Jon pick it up to read.

"What's going on? Why is that bad?" Ygritte asked worriedly.

"Eastwatch has fallen." Jon told her hauntedly. "They climbed the Wall and used the Giants to force their way through the passageway. The Greatjon and Lord Rickard are dead. Ned Umber is abandoning Last Hearth and Stannis Baratheon is bringing the survivors to Winterfell."

"This is it." Robb whispered. "They're in the North."

Jon turned to Maester Luwin. "Send your fastest raven to King's Landing and tell them. Warn Lord Bolton too, his forces are closer to Eastwatch, so they may be the first target."

Luwin looked briefly at Robb, who just nodded his agreement at the commands. The Maester then left as quickly as he could. "You're sounding like a true leader, more so than me." Robb chuckled, but the smile never reached his eyes.

"I have to be." Jon said, his fingers playing at Blackfyre's hilt. "I was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I was born to be a King. I was named after the conqueror himself after all."

Robb looked at his cousin. "Are you sure?" He asked, the implied question of if Jon was ready hanging over them both.

"Aye." Jon nodded. "It's time I stopped acting like a child over who I am and stepped up to face it. My Mother wanted me to be more than just Jon Snow the bastard of Winterfell, and my Father risked everything for me. If I die, let me die as the son of two of the bravest people in Westeros, and not as a sullen bastard."

Robb agreed, and clasped his hand to Jon's. "Aegon." He greeted, the name feeling both weird and right at the same time.

"To you, it's just Jon. To both of you, always." He said, holding his hand out to Ygritte too. "You are my family after all."

* * *

The Small Council room was filled with different people to normal. Gone were those preparing to fight in the North, replaced with those that Durran believed he could trust to keep the rest of the realm running in the meantime, and Lady Olenna had joined them.

He looked around, Cersei looking for once like she wasn't sure she belonged, his scathing words about her not having power were still fresh in her mind, yet they had happened so long ago. Myrcella sat next to her, dressed in the dark purple of her new house she had truly taken to married life well. Anya Waynwood, Willas Tyrell and Varys made up the rest of his chosen, but the eunuch looked extremely uncomfortable at being sat next to the Queen of Thorns herself.

"You are all equals here." Durran explained. "Six voices, and one. You have the power of a regency council, nothing more. Keep the Seven Kingdom's together and prepare for the worst in the North, that's all you have to do."

"Oh, that's all?" Olenna rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Lady Olenna." Durran said firmly. "If the worst comes to befall us and the dead make it past the Neck, then evacuate."

"These are strong Walls."

"Not stronger than the Wall, grandmother, and that hasn't stopped them." Willas said diplomatically. "We shall do as you ask, Your Grace."

"Westeros shall stay standing in our hands." Anya Waynwood nodded, pursing her lips.

"You just ensure that you do the same." Cersei said softly, placing her hand on his.

Durran nodded, not promising anything. "If I fall, then Duncan is to be crowned and you are to rule as regents until he comes of age. Any arrangements at the Treaty of Hayford is also to stand."

"We'll be fine." Myrcella said with a smirk. "You're not needed here, brother, you're needed in the North. Trust us."

"I have no choice but to." He said, looking at Varys and Olenna as he said that. "Very well, you're all dismissed for now." The majority of the council left the room, but Cersei and Myrcella were held back. Once the doors had shut for the final time and Durran had thought he'd heard the old lady moaning about being dismissed like a serving girl, he sighed. "If she carries on being such an arse, make sure to burn her body."

"She's alright." Myrcella shrugged with another smirk. "Words are wind and she is full of it."

Chuckling, Durran brought his sister in for a lengthy hug. "Keep an eye on them all though. There is nobody I trust here more than you." He whispered to her.

"Your Kingdom's are in good hands, Your Grace." She mock curtseyed once they had parted.

"I know." Durran smiled. "No unnecessary punishments either." He said towards his Mother. "Follow the laws set out, I don't want to come back to a peasant's revolt."

"Make sure you come back then." Cersei said, her lip shaking as she fought back the tears. She reached forward and pulled Durran harshly into a hug. "And bring Tommen back too."

"I'll do my best." Durran promised that time. He took a step back and breathed in deeply, before exhaling again loudly. "I need to go and get into my armour, and I need to say goodbye to the babes." Cersei nodded, a tear escaping her eye. Durran reached out and stoked it away with his thumb. "Do not cry. I am doing what I've been brought up to do. To protect my family."

He ruffled Myrcella's hair as he used to do when they were children, forcing her to laugh as tears escaped her eyes too, before Durran walked out of the room with his head feeling like an emotional wreck, thinking of what to say to the children.

* * *

He entered his and Dany's chambers to a sweet scene. Dany had already changed into riding leathers and had all three children on the bed, as she was reading them a children's story about a dragon. Durran could only smile as he led his servants to help him put on his armour. Only his Baratheon leathers for now, his full black plate was being packed onto a cart by one of Lord Rykker's teenagers, who was to serve as his squire. When everything was tightened and ready, he dismissed everybody that wasn't family and went to sit on the bed as well, taking hold of baby Gowen, who was staring up at him with is deep blue eyes.

"Are you fighting again Father?" Little Elaenor asked sadly.

Durran nodded, kissing the top of his daughter's head. "I am Elle, do you remember the scary stories that you were told when Jon was here?" He had tried to avoid the topic of the White Walkers for the sake of his children, but Jon managed to explain it in a way that both exhilarated and terrified Elaenor, while Duncan was still too young to truly understand. "Well those monsters need to be stopped, and that's what your Mother and I are going to do."

Elaenor nodded her understanding. "Fight the monsters!" She said fiercely, clenching her little fists causing Durran to grin widely.

"As my Princess commands." He told her.

"Are we ready?" Dany asked. Durran nodded again. The Silver-haired Queen grabbed young Duncan and squeezed him tightly to her, causing little giggling squeals from the future King. Elaenor felt jealous at the contact and jumped on them both, as Dany pulled them both in for one giant embrace. "I love you, my little Stag's." She whispered, kissing them both. Durran laid a kiss on his younger son's head, before swapping over again with Dany and picking his daughter up with one arm, and his wriggling eldest son up in the other.

"You will be good while we are away, alright?" He told them both. "Don't go scaring people with Stormfyre. Go to your lessons, and make sure that you look after your Grandmother for me."

"But it's funny!" Elaenor complained, but she nodded at the serious look that Durran gave her. "Ok." She added dejectedly.

Hugging them close one last time, he set them down and called for one of Dany's handmaidens to take the children away. Dany gave each of them one last hug before they went, eventually turning around to Durran with a fierce look in her eyes.

"This isn't goodbye." She told him determinedly. "We are going to beat back the Night King, and tuck in our babies once more." Durran didn't feel like he could speak, and just held Dany to his chest, the Targaryen Queen's ear pressed just below his heartbeat as for the only time they let out their emotions of potentially not coming home to the three most important people in all of the world.

* * *

The men had gathered. The carts and wagons of supplies had been sent ahead to Brindlewood, a site that Durran had no happiness at the thought of returning to, where they would be camping for the night. 20,000 men from Dorne, the Stormlands, the Reach and the Crownlands had gathered outside King's Landing and they were all ready to head out on the long march.

The King was alone, as Dany had gone to the Dragonpit to ride Rhaellar for the first stretch. Durran watched from atop his black-haired destrier as the three adult dragons circled above them. Turning to his cousin Stefan beside him, Durran tightened his grip on the reigns.

"Are you ready?" Stefan asked.

Durran just chuckled, shaking his head. "We're about to go and fight an army of dead men. Are you ready?"

"Oh fuck no." Stefan groaned. "But I'd follow you anywhere."

Durran appreciated that, and after tightening his thick cloak, he turned to his Master of War Randyll Tarly. "I want a good pace. Brisk but manageable. Keep them moving at the rear, Lord Tarly."

"Your Grace." The man nodded, turning his horse and galloping down the line barking at the men.

"These Northerners better not have been making this all up." Edric Dayne said, trotting up to join Stefan and Durran. "Starfall was nice and mild, the sun still shone, and the pools were just cool enough to enjoy."

"I don't want to know how you enjoyed the pools, Lord Dayne." Durran shuddered, knowing what he meant by that and not wanting to think of his sister in that way. "You'll see soon enough."

"Do dead men bleed?" Edric asked. "I'd like Dawn to taste the blood of the dead, but I don't know if they bleed."

"We'll find out soon enough." Stefan said grimly.

"We march to Darry to meet up with Lord Andar, Lord Edmure, Tommen and the rest of the Reach." Durran told the pair. "I want no infighting between any of my Kingdom's."

"We've been good so far." Edric shrugged. "We'll continue to be so."

Durran was grateful. He turned to face the army amassed by the Kingsroad and raised his Valyrian Steel sword Fury, so all could see, and shouted as loudly as he could. "THE DEAD WANT TO TAKE YOUR WIVES, YOUR HUSBANDS, YOUR SONS AND YOUR DAUGHTERS AND MAKE THEM THEIR OWN. THEY WON'T STOP UNTIL WE, THE MEN AND WOMEN OF WESTEROS STAND UP AND TELL THEM TO FUCK OFF! WE SHALL SHOW THEM THAT WE DO NOT BOW, WE DO NOT BREAK! WE STAND TOGETHER AS ONE NATION AND SHOW THEM OUR FURY!"

The cheers were deafening, as the dragons above met Durran's speech with a roar of their own. Turning back towards the North, Durran kicked his horse into a steady walk up the Kingsroad and led his forces towards the unknown.

* * *

The women and children that weren't to fight were being sent Southwards as a few thousand Northman began the march to the Dreadfort to aid Lord Bolton. Robb was preparing to go with them, but among the last group were his own family. Catelyn sat on her horse clinging to Rickon tightly, while Roslin was in a cart with her and Robb's children.

"You stay alive." Roslin said softly as Robb kissed her once more. "Your boys need a Father."

"And they need a home. I'll do my part to protect that." Robb told her. "You'll be safe at Riverrun."

"I know, it's you I worry about." Roslin told him. "And your brother…"

Bran had outright refused to go South, immorally entering the minds of anyone who tried to force him away from the Weirwood tree. Robb had almost lost patience with him, but the reminder of the feelings he had when he thought Bran had been killed stopped him from doing something he'd probably regret. "I'll speak to him again." He said, as he kissed his sleeping sons goodbye.

Roslin nodded. "Stay alive!" She said once more as the cart pulled away towards the Kingsroad. Robb then moved backwards as his Mother rode by him.

"Come with us." She pleaded. Robb shook his head.

"My place is here." He said firmly. "I'll try and persuade Bran, but I am Warden of the North. It is my duty to fight."

Cat sobbed, and Robb took her hand, ruffling Rickon's hair in the process. "Kill them all." The young Stark growled.

"I will." Robb told his brother, as he slapped the horse's arse to make it gallop, sending his family away. Once the sound of the hooves had died down, Robb fought his way through the snowfall into the Godswood, where his brother could always be found. Robb stood there as Bran returned to the present. "What did you see?"

Bran just stared at him, his worried eyes betraying his calm face. "Nothing good." Was the response.

* * *

It had taken them a week to get to Darry at a brisk pace, and Durran gave the men a full day's recovery time while the other armies filtered in. From the East came a few thousand men and women bearing the banners of House Royce, with the odd Falcon thrown about here and there. From the West was a much larger force, as the armies of the Reach mixed with the few Westerlanders and Rivermen joined them, taking Durran's total to around 55,000 strong.

In the morbid times that they were living in, it was a beaming Edmure Tully that met up with the King, proudly telling both Durran and Stefan that Shireen was with child. Durran felt pleased for his cousin, although Stefan was worried about the effects of the birth.

"She's never been the healthiest, especially after the incident." He said, speaking about the Greyscale scare that had left half of her face marked forever.

"She has the best Maester that the Riverlands can offer her, I'm sure she'll be fine." Durran tried to ease his mind, though Stefan just skulked off to train with one of his Father's bannermen, worried about his sister.

More good news came in the shape of a longsword, as Lord Leyton's heir Ser Baelor 'Brightsmile' himself had come with Vigilance, the Valyrian Steel sword that hadn't been seen since the first Battle of Tumbleton in the Dance of the Dragons.

"We had kept it in the Hightower." Ser Baelor had said as Durran had a drink with some of the Reacher knights. He had taken to drinking with a different set of men for every meal, to try and rouse the morale and keep it high. "Ever since my ancestor's brother, Martyn, escaped the slaughter and rescued the sword it has been kept encased, as a reminder of our eventual failure in the Dance. Your words moved my Father though, and he had the casings smashed and handed me the sword himself."

He had relayed that message to Dany as they were undressing for bed that night, and she was happy at the news. "That's as many swords as we're going to get under our banners." She said, leaning against his bare chest.

"Are the Ironborn…" Durran began.

"They're meeting us at Moat Cailin." Dany nodded. She had flown to rally their banners herself. "Under the strict instructions of not to seek revenge on the North or I'll burn them all."

Durran chuckled as he got comfier, kissing his wife deeply. "For one last night can we forget the war, forget our duties and forget our titles, and just be man and wife?" He asked quietly. Dany just chuckled, hitting his chest at the insinuation before climbing on top of her husband and easing their troubles away for a few hours.


	45. The War for the Dawn

It took almost 5 weeks at a pacey march before the armies of the South could see the giant half ruined castle of Moat Cailin. An effort had clearly been made to make the structure more habitable since the last time Durran had travelled up the Kingsroad towards the gateway to the North, but the bleak wintery conditions hadn't helped.

There were two banners hanging above the gates of the Moat, one was the traditional grey Direwolf head of House Stark on a white field, while the other was the full grey Direwolf lying down, its head turned towards the person looking at it, with wide, black eyes baring into them. Durran felt slightly chilled as he rode ahead of the lines to announce themselves.

"Who wishes to enter the North?" A voice called down from above them. Durran sighed, wishing that these guardsmen would have a bit of sense about them.

"The King!" Ser Arys Oakheart shouted up from beside Durran. "And his army, come to help protect the North from the oncoming threat!"

Durran watched as the guard turned around, and after a few minutes in the snow the gates opened with a groan, and a young woman stood in their way, looking sternly out at the army in front of her.

"Lady Arya." Durran nodded his head politely.

"Commander Stark, if it pleases Your Grace." Arya corrected him. The girl was dressed in the Stark leathers, a thin sword strapped to her waist. She reminded Durran of her Father a bit.

"My apologies." He said honestly. "May we enter the North?"

Arya just nodded. "You're late." Was all she said, before turning away. Durran could only turn to his Kingsguard in amusement before he kicked his horse to take him through the gates.

The rest of the army continued Northwards, as so many men couldn't possibly set up camp in the bogs that surrounded the crumbling castle, but Durran had met with the Stark girl in the Gatehouse Tower, the one that she had taken for her own.

"I haven't heard much." Arya began, taking the King to a table where a map of the North was filled with small figures depicting each Northern House. "The very North has been evacuated entirely, even Bear Island. Some have fled South towards White Harbour where Lord Manderly is taking them in and shipping them off to the Riverlands when he can, those that can hold a spear have joined Robb."

"Where are the enemy?" Durran asked.

"Last I heard they were here." Arya said, pointing to a spot towards the south of the Dreadfort. "Robb had gone to aid Lord Bolton but the last message I received from him was of their retreat back to Winterfell. That was a week ago."

"Shit…" Durran cursed. "We need to move quickly."

"Yes, we do." Arya said firmly. "The Greatjon is dead. Rickard Karstark and his last son are dead. The Mountain Clans were too few to stop them. Half of the Night's Watch is gone."

"Then we should waste no more time." Durran said grimly. "Are your men ready?"

Arya nodded. "We were just waiting for you." She told him. "The plan was to draw them to Winterfell, Bran told Robb that we could beat them there as Brandon the Builder once did thousands of years ago."

Durran began to walk to the door. "Well then, Commander Stark." He turned back to tell her, trying to keep his morale up. "Let us go and join your ancestor in legend."

* * *

The last time Durran had rode towards the impressive fortress that was Winterfell he had been welcomed by thousands of smallfolk lined up to greet them, and the entire household of the castle had stood in the courtyard waiting for his Father to arrive. This time however, all Durran saw was men either groaning and looking after their injuries or grunting and shovels being thrust into the ground behind a deep wall of snow.

"The King! The King is here!" One man shouted from the walls of Winterfell. Durran spurred his horse closer to the camp outside the castle, inside what was appearing to be a deep moat in the snow. Soldiers dressed in the armour of House Hornwood came and took his horse away as Robb Stark came up to the party informally, his forehead drenched in sweat.

"Your Grace." He said, catching his breath. "Thank the Gods you're here."

"Sorry we're late." Durran said as the army filtered through and were directed to where they could set up camps.

"It's been a fucking nightmare." Robb shook his head as Durran helped Daenerys off of her horse, the Queen deciding to ride into Winterfell rather than fly. "I'm down to just under 6,000 Northmen and women. The wights… they came for the Dreadfort. Thousands upon thousands of them… We were lucky to escape with as many as we did."

"What stopped them?" Dany asked.

"The wildfire you had sent Northwards." Robb admitted. "We had to torch the castle, but it took enough of them with it."

"They still have more than we do." A voice that Durran recognised said from behind Robb.

Turning towards the noise, Durran grinned at the sight of the man, but his greeting was too late as Arya Stark had joined them and exclaimed. "Gendry!"

The knight turned to see his old friend and grinned. "That's Ser Gendry to you, Arry."

"Who was stupid enough to knight you?" She asked with a grin, before moving forward and locking him in a brief hug.

"That would be me." Durran stepped forward, hugging his elder half-brother. "How are you?" He asked.

"Alive." Gendry said solemnly. "More than can be said for dozens of my other brothers. They completely tore down Eastwatch Your Grace. Climbed over the Wall and smashed through the gates in all their force. They came for Castle Black then but most of us had evacuated by then. Thankfully Lord Stark offered us Winterfell."

"It's my pleasure, Lord Commander." Robb said, causing Durran to grin.

"Lord Commander?"

"The 1000th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Gendry sighed. "Edd didn't make it, he stayed at Castle Black."

Durran nodded, showing his condolences. "What of the Wildling's?"

"Some made it this far." Robb shrugged. "Most haven't been seen since the Dreadfort."

"Shit…" Durran said, and nobody could have said it better than that.

"We have a plan though." Robb nodded, leading them all through the camp towards the castle. "A moat is being dug around Winterfell. We plan to fill it with caches of your Wildfire and lighting it when they're close. Your pyromancers promise me that how we're doing it can contain it to just the moat."

"Well my Father managed to burn people alive with the stuff and not destroy the Red Keep, so hopefully they can be trusted." Dany said darkly.

"Hopefully it will slow them down." Robb added.

"Well done." Durran said honestly. "Are they coming here then, definitely?"

"Aye." Robb nodded unhappily. "This is where the largest population of people is in the North. They went for Eastwatch, then Castle Black, then Last Hearth, Karhold and the Dreadfort. All populated places in the North."

"White Harbour is evacuating too now." Gendry added. "They have high walls, but not high enough."

"But with the Wildfire, your army and your dragons." Robb said towards the King and Queen.

"We can make a last stand." Gendry finished.

Durran nodded as they passed through the gates to Winterfell. "And end this, once and for all."

"There is one more thing, Your Grace." Gendry said. "Something we didn't know before."

"Oh?" Durran asked.

"We know that Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass can kill the Walkers." The bastard began. "What we didn't know, is that once one dies, all the wights it animated die too."

"They just crumble." Robb nodded.

"Jonothor Roxton killed one outside of the Dreadfort as we were helping some of the smallfolk to flee." Gendry said, and Durran recognised the name as the man he had sent to the Wall with the Valyrian Steel sword Orphan-Maker.

"Is he still alive?" Dany asked. Gendry shook his head.

"He died of infection not long after." Gendry admitted. "We saved the sword though."

Durran let his eyes drop to the ground for a moment in mourning. "We'll give the sword back to his family today. Is there anything else that we've missed?"

A screech was heard in the sky, as the three dragons soared above Winterfell. Aelyx however veered off into a different direction, and Robb had a bemused laugh on his lips.

"Only Jon choosing his heritage." Robb told them, with a nod up to the dragon, as Aelyx dived and fell to the ground somewhere in the distance.

* * *

Dany didn't go with her husband into the castle of Winterfell, instead she made her way over to where Aelyx had landed and was surprised to see the green dragon staring at Jon Snow passively. The former Lord Commander had taken his glove off and was close to touching the green dragon on the snout. She got as close as she could without being spotted, and watched as Jon made contact with the dragon, stroking its massive head. Aelyx began almost purring, and Dany smiled at the sight.

"He recognises your mind is more settled." She called over to her kin. Jon looked up in surprise, stepping back.

"Your Grace… I'm sorry, he just landed by me and I thought…"

"You wanted to try and see how he would react this time." Dany noted, running her hand along Aelyx's scales. "You know, I never understood how bonding with a dragon worked before now. I knew I had more of a connection to Rhaellar as she grew, but you managed it in a single meeting in King's Landing."

Jon was confused. "He flew away in King's Landing…"

"But he flew up to you to see if you were worthy of him." Dany told him. "He could sense your blood. Now that you can feel it too he may let you ride him." She could see how much that appealed to Jon by the way his eyes wandered over to the dragon's wings and continued. "Just be firm with him, in your mind tell him that you're going to mount him and fly."

Jon considered it, and Dany could tell that in his mind he was trying to decide whether to fly the dragon or not, but he shook his head and took a step back. "I need to help dig out this moat." Was his excuse. Dany silently sighed and stroked the green beast, silently telling him to go and join his siblings. The dragon lifted his neck up to smell the air, and with a giant gust of wind he flapped his wings and flew into the air.

"We need the dragons in the fight." Dany told her nephew. "And if you are to mount him during the battle I'd rather you practiced.

Jon sighed. "I know, but we're busy here. I'll fly him in the morning." He tried to persuade her, as he regripped his shovel and made his way back towards the moat. Dany decided to help out and followed him as the two began speaking of Targaryen history and dragons while preparing Winterfell for the coming storm.

* * *

As the two Targaryen's were bonding over their dragons, Durran was led by Robb into the Godswood of Winterfell. Durran was in awe at the large woodland area. "It's beautiful." He said quietly, admiring how peaceful the Godswood was compared to everywhere else in Winterfell.

Robb nodded. "My Father always used to come here after an execution, to contemplate his actions and I believe to ask the Gods for their forgiveness. I tend to just come here to get away from it all."

Durran noticed two men seated by the Weirwood tree. One was covered in thick furs, and the other dressed all in black. "Samwell Tarly." He greeted the one he knew.

"Hello, Your Grace." Sam said.

"I thought you were in Oldtown?" Durran asked.

"He arrived a few days before you did." The other boy, who as Durran got closer he realised was Bran Stark.

"Bran… I'm glad you're alive. The last time I saw you…" Durran began before being interrupted.

"I was in a coma, you offered your sympathies to Mother and spoke to my Father about Daenerys Targaryen." Bran said monotonously.

Durran was slightly scared at that. "How do you know that?"

"He knows a lot nowadays." Robb said, looking warily at his brother. "Come, Samwell. Let us leave the King with Bran."

Sam nodded, and followed the Lord of Winterfell out of the Godswood. Durran took Sam's chair and looked towards the Stark boy. "What happened North of the Wall?"

"I became the Three Eyed Raven." Bran admitted. "I can see everything that's ever happened, and everything that is happening now." Durran wanted to be disbelieving, but he was in Winterfell because of an army of dead men, so why couldn't there be a raven with visions? "I want to show you something." Bran added.

"Me?" Durran was surprised.

Bran just nodded and held his hand out for Durran's. Tentatively, Durran took it, and then Bran placed his other hand on the trunk of the Weirwood tree.

He gasped, as Durran's mind lurched, and when he gathered his senses he found himself in a small room in the Red Keep. His vision coming back to him, he felt himself grow angry at Bran. In front of Durran was the dying King Robert Baratheon being given some Milk of the Poppy by Pycelle, with Renly by his side.

"Father…" Durran whispered, going to his side.

"He can't hear you." Bran said, walking around the bed. "But listen."

Durran did just that, as Pycelle left the room. "Why did you race off like that?" Renly asked, tearing up.

"I thought…" Robert began, in obvious agony. "I thought I had it. Ha, the King of the Seven Kingdom's murdered by a boar. Have it at my funeral feast, at least the bitch will enjoy a meal for once."

Renly shook his head. "You're not going to die, brother."

"I am." Robert grimaced in pain. "And I need you to do something. Bring Stannis and Durran back from Dragonstone, then help Ned. Cersei will try and take control for the damn Lannisters, I can feel it. Joffrey will need… will need better influences." He said, his face scrunching up in pain.

"I will." Renly nodded.

"And get those boys to stop battering each other with swords." Robert laughed lightly. "I swear, Durran should have been firstborn. He's the more suited. It sounds fucking awful but I'm more proud of him than any of my children, even than I am of me."

Durran felt a tear fall from his eye, as Renly nodded, taking Robert's hand.

"I'll bring them back." Renly promised.

"Killed…" The Milk of the Poppy was kicking in truly now, as Robert began to drift off to sleep. "By a pig…"

The great man's eyes closed, and Renly bowed his head in sadness. Durran wanted to go over and comfort his Uncle as he shared in the grief again, still as fresh as it was seven years earlier. A flash of light however and he was back in the snow in Winterfell, his tears freezing cold on his cheeks. "Why would you take me there?" Durran asked, wiping it away.

"Because you never got to see King Robert talk about you like that." Bran said. "And to prove to you that even your Father thought you were better suited to lead than he was, so that you can lead us all confidently in the battle to come." The sun finally went below the Walls of Winterfell, and the Godswood soon became shrouded in darkness. "And if we don't win, we'll never see sunlight again." Bran added.

* * *

Bran was right. It had been 5 days after Durran had had the vision in the Godswood and there had been no sunrise. Candles were burning constantly all throughout Winterfell and extra braziers had been commissioned in order for the castle exterior to be properly lit. Meals were being heavily rationed too for the account of the sheer amount of men at Winterfell. Randyll Tarly had sent groups off in all directions as scouts to try and make a guess at where the enemy would come from, but so far nothing had come of those parties.

Only a few issues had come from the differing Kingdom's all being in one space. Some Northmen and Ironborn had had a falling out, along with the Dornish and the Marcher Lords, but Daenerys, Edric Dayne and Stannis, who had turned up to Winterfell a day after Durran with a dozen men looking worse for wear after being in the lands by White Harbour, had intervened.

As the patrols were ongoing, Robb Stark was hosting the King, Queen and his own family in the Great Hall for their single meal of the day and thinking about how different the atmosphere felt to the feast so long ago.

"Do you remember the first time you came to Winterfell?" Robb mentioned to Durran as the latter was tucking into a chicken leg.

"Mm." Durran nodded, swallowing his mouthful. "I'm sure I stopped you from throwing something at Sansa." He said to Arya.

"I'm still annoyed at that." Arya sulked, but a smirk on her face gave her amusement away.

"I almost want to go back to that." Robb told them. "No cares in the world, just two families enjoying themselves."

"I think my Father enjoyed himself a bit too much." Durran chuckled, remembering his lecherous Father palm at the serving women all night. "Your Direwolf tried to eat me as well that night, I still remember those red eyes coming at me from the dark." He laughed to Jon.

The man in question grinned, turning his head to see Ghost and Grey Wind both snoozing behind them. "Aye, he smelt the meat on your fingers."

A round of laughs filled the table. Robb sighed, happily remembering the day. "Now look at us."

"Times are different." Dany said softly.

"One day we'll have another feast like that." Durran said firmly. "Where everyone is invited." He said to Jon, who smiled at the gesture. They were interrupted by a loud horn blowing from one of the towers.

"What's that?" Dany asked as the noise was ongoing.

"Ranger returning." Jon answered quickly. "We adopted the Watch's policy." He added as a second horn blew.

"Wildlings." Robb noted, his hand going to his sword belt.

"But they're in our army." Durran reminded everybody, as the third horn blew.

"Walkers." Jon whispered. "This is it." He threw himself to his feet and grabbed Blackfyre, which had been on the table.

Durran felt chills in his bones. "Benfred!" He called, as his Rykker squire came running over.

"Yes, Your Grace." He said.

"Go and prepare my armour, I'll be up in a second." Durran ordered. He turned to Dany and kissed her deeply. "I love you. Stay safe."

"I'll have Rhaellar." She whispered against his lips. "You come back to me."

Durran nodded before getting up and walking briskly up to the rooms he had been sharing with his Queen. Robb already had his armour on and was just tightening his pauldrons as the Queen also got up. "Jon, are you sure you're ready for this?" She asked.

Jon nodded. "I've been up a few times, I'll be alright." He said. Jon hugged Arya tightly. "Stay safe." He whispered. "You know what to do."

"Stick them with the pointy end." Arya chuckled, as Jon pulled away and stood before Robb.

"Give them hell." Robb told him, and Jon just nodded, before he and the Queen were the next to leave. "Come Arya." He said, and the two Stark's made their way through the castle in between men at arms who were grabbing weapons of all shapes and sizes. Spears, maces, flails and swords. Everything that could be used to fight was being taken.

* * *

While Arya walked off to the Godswood to check on their brother, Robb found his way up to the battlements to look out towards the distance. Towards the east and out of the trees sat a lone horseman, with spikes on his head that made it look like a crown. He seemed to lock eyes with Robb for a moment, before more horsemen slowly appeared out of the trees.

Stannis Baratheon soon appeared next to the Stark Lord. "Are the archers ready?" Robb asked.

"As ready as we'll ever be." Stannis replied gruffly, as infantrymen with all manner of decomposed flesh began to slowly filter out of the trees, stopping just before they got to the horses. "Your woman better be as good as you say she is."

"Oh, she is." Robb nodded, looking towards the First Keep where a small fire burned safely on the roof, and a red headed woman could be seen looking over towards Robb. The Stark man held his longsword in the air and swung downwards, signalling to her. From then all Robb had to do was watch as Ygritte lit an arrow and drew her bow backwards, firing. The arrow sailed through the air and over the gathered army of the living almost in slow motion, as Robb watched it disappear into the moat.

It wasn't even a second later when green flames erupted from the moat, spreading both ways but staying inside the dug-out area, and in almost no time at all the whole of Winterfell was encased in a Wildfire ring. The men below him began to cheer at the sight, and Durran took that moment to appear dressed in his Baratheon leathers with black steel plate pauldrons and chest guard, holding his antlered helm in one arm.

"Did it work?" He asked.

Robb wasn't sure. "They've not tried to face it yet."

"Very well." Durran nodded. "I'm going down there. The men need a speech."

"Make it a good one." Stannis told him, as the two kin clasped forearms. "It's been an honour, Your Grace."

Durran just grinned a cocky smile. "Don't go dying on me now, old man." He said before he walked down, three of his Kingsguard waiting for him on horseback. Robb swore he saw a smile on Stannis' face.

"I should be down there too." Robb said grimly.

"There'll be plenty to go around, Lord Stark." Stannis replied. "Our turn will come soon enough."

Robb nodded his agreement as he saw Durran riding before the men. He was just far enough away that Robb couldn't hear the words he was saying, but the impact in the men was apparent as they stopped shuffling nervously, standing tall and proud. He did hear the end however, as Durran screamed out. "WE WILL SHOW THEM OUR FURY! FOR THE LIVING!"

The men roared out the last part together, banging swords and shields together to create a deafening noise. Ygritte soon appeared beside Robb and the pair of them looked out at the scene.

"Banging bits of steel together won't scare them off." She scoffed.

"No, but it keeps morale up and makes the men believe they are brave, and not afraid." Stannis told her.

"My Father once told me that that is the only time a man can be brave." Robb smiled at the memory. "Or woman." He corrected himself.

"We are brave when we fight." Ygritte told him. "Where's Jon?"

"With the dragons." Robb told her.

Ygritte's face fell for a moment, before it hardened again. "He better live." She growled. "The fucker got me with child, he best meet his son."

Robb was about to say something to stop her from fighting when movement in the distance caught his eye, as the wights began to charge forwards. "ARCHERS!" Stannis bellowed. "NOCK YOUR ARROWS!"

"Here we go." Robb clenched his teeth and growled. He gripped the fur on Grey Wind's neck tightly for comfort as he watched the dead charge at them once more.

* * *

Even in the relative peace of the Godswood and through a vision of his ancestor Brandon the Builder laying the first stone of Winterfell Bran could hear the banging of shields and the snarls of the dead. Coming back to the present, he saw Arya leaning against the heart tree, clearly agitated and wanting to get out there. "Your role will come." Bran promised her.

"I know, I just feel craven stuck here while others are out fighting." Arya said shaking her head.

Bran nodded his understanding. "The fighting will spread; the wildfire won't hold them back for long." He said ominously. "But my role is close."

"What are you actually doing?" Arya asked, pushing herself away from the tree.

"Fighting the Night King himself eventually, but for now, only two of the dragons have riders." Bran told her, as he placed his hand on the Weirwood to expand his power. Slipping into another's skin had become second nature for the Stark boy, but a dragon was a different beast entirely. The black dragon Dārys fought him for a moment, but Bran was too powerful. He looked around with his large eyes and saw Dany instructing Jon on how to best fight on dragon back, and his hosts brother and sister all waiting around expectantly. Looking up to the sky, a voice rang through his mind, a mere memory but the words were still as powerful as the day he had heard them, so far away underneath the tree.

' _You will never walk again, but you will fly._ ' The Bloodraven's voice filled Bran's mind as he got up on his hind legs and powerfully launched into the air, beating his leathery wings in time and ignoring the protests of Daenerys below him. It was so much more intense than flying as a raven, and if the situation wasn't so dire Bran might have enjoyed it.

He let out a roar as he rose far beyond Winterfell, hovering in the air for a moment watching the wights try and push through the Wildfire barrier, to no avail. Launching himself forwards with another roar, Bran felt the wind rushing against his scales as his eyes narrowed to find a target. He swiftly flew over the Wildfire barrier, truly seeing the sheer number of wights coming for them.

Not wasting a moment Bran roared once more, shooting a powerful blast of flame from his mouth and setting dozens of wights alight wherever he aimed. Sticking close to the Wildfire barrier, he roasted as many the crazed dead as he could, burning the corpses to ash.

This carried on for a while, as Bran combed the area nearest to Winterfell and roasted hundreds of wights that were rushing to attack the living, until suddenly Bran's chest was on fire as one of his hydrogen sacs in his torso exploded. Crying out in an agonised roar, Bran forced himself back into his own body.

"AAAAAH!" He screamed, patting down his human body for any signs of pain. His lungs were on fire and he felt like he was going to die.

"What? What is it?" Arya asked worriedly.

"I… I lost him. The dragon is dead." Bran panted angrily.

* * *

Jon knew that the scream of the dragon dying would haunt him until he died, but the look of sheer devastation on Dany's face made it even more unbearable. The thud of Dārys falling to the ground shook the ground of the castle too, and a sob escaped the Queen's lips.

"We have to go now." Jon told her. "We have to avenge him!"

"I… I can't…" Dany could just about get out.

"Yes you can!" Jon exclaimed. "Out there is a being that can bring back the dead, do you want that for Dārys?"

Dany shook her head, but her legs wouldn't move. Grunting his annoyance, Jon turned back to Aelyx who lowered his shoulder to let Jon climb on. Once he settled in between the green dragon's spikes, he shouted. "Sōvēs!" As Dārys had before him, Aelyx lifted himself up and began racing past the walls of Winterfell, the gathered army and the wall of Wildfire that was preventing the armies from meeting. "DRACARYS!" Jon shouted, and Aelyx did as he was bid, lighting up several of the dead.

The horses had begun to slowly move forward, spanning the entire length of the battlefield, although two remained close. The Night King and, to Jon's surprise, Lady Melisandre wearing colder colours. They were heading directly towards the fallen dragon. " **Dive!** " Jon commanded, and Aelyx began to race towards the dead and bleeding black monster, but he was too late.

As Jon began to scream for Aelyx to burn his brother, the Night King had already dismounted his horse and knelt by Dārys' head. "DRACARYS!" Jon cried, but it was too late. The purple haired Priestess of R'hllor held out her hands and looked to absorb the dragon fire as it raced towards the carcass of Dārys, and that was enough to buy the time for the Night King to work his magic, and Dārys' eyes turned blue. "No!" Jon cried, as Aelyx roared more flames towards his brother's corpse, but dragonhide was immune to fire. The Night King climbed atop Dārys' back and the dragon flew once more.

Jon's mind began to race. If he couldn't burn the carcass, he had to tear it to shreds and stab its organs with Dragonglass. " **Aelyx! Tear him to pieces!** " He commanded the green dragon in Valyrian, the tongue coming naturally to him, and with another roar Aelyx launched forwards.

Dārys was ready however, and the two dragons clashed together with an almighty thud. Claws and teeth sunk into both dragons, as over 170 years after the war of the same name, the Dragons danced again.

* * *

Every single man stood outside of Winterfell had their eyes in the sky as the two dragons fought closer to Winterfell. Durran was watching in sheer awe from atop his horse, but his attention was soon taken by a lone figure parting the wildfire. The woman stood with her hands out as the flames dissipated under her steps, and soon enough the entire moat was extinguished. The snarls and screeches of the wights were starting to become deafening, and Durran looked behind him, the cavalry of the Reach were in his vanguard, and he nodded to Mace Tyrell before unsheathing his Valyrian Steel sword Fury.

"Are you ready?" Durran asked his Kingsguard, Ser Barristan, Ser Arys and Ser Archibald Yronwood were his shadows for the battle, as the other three at Winterfell led men elsewhere.

"We're with you all the way, Your Grace." Ser Barristan answered for them. Durran nodded his thanks and turned back to his army.

"FOR THE LIVING!" He roared, once again repeating his message from his speech moments before, as the Knights behind him roared the same phrase, lowering their spears and unsheathing swords. Durran then turned back as the woman had disappeared, but the wights were in sight and running with pace. "ADVANCE!"

The wights were climbing out of their side of the moat now, and Durran kicked his horse into action, galloping the distance between them and the onrushing wights. Spears with Dragonglass tips lined up either side of him, and the whole world seemed to silence as Durran narrowed his eyes, ready to crash into the dead.

And crash he did. Durran's horse drove through the first line of wights with such force that their bodies just seemed to explode from the contact, and Durran had to raise his shield to stop a rogue arm from clattering into his helmet. Then he began hacking down at the dead with sheer ferocity, there was no strategy to his attacks, just pure power behind every blow.

It wasn't all their way though, as what the wights lacked in organisation they made up for in numbers. Durran saw the plumed helmet of Mace Tyrell be dragged off of his horse by half a dozen of the crazed dead, and by the time he had made his way over to try and help his bannerman the man had been torn into three pieces and bleeding heavily. The battle was like none he had ever seen, but seeing his people getting torn apart strengthened his resolve. "Hyaah!" He cried, as he kicked his horse into a gallop once more, slicing as much rotting flesh off of his enemy as he possibly could.

That's all he did for what seemed like an age, just hacking his sword downwards from horseback and keeping himself mobile so that he couldn't get swamped as Mace Tyrell had done. That was until another roar was heard from above them, and Durran's heart thumped louder in his chest through fear as Rhaellar and Daenerys had joined the battle in the sky.

* * *

It wasn't just the Reach forces that were in the thick of the fighting. After the Wildfire was no longer burning Robb and Stannis both left the walls of Winterfell to fight with their own men, leaving Ygritte to marshal the archers atop the high walls of Winterfell. Robb headed towards the left where his own Northman had joined with the last remaining Free Folk. He was glad for having practiced so much with the two handed greatsword that had been passed down by his family for generations then, as Wight after Wight fell to Ice.

The Lord of Winterfell felt exposed on foot, but as the main cavalry force had gone to the fresher Reachman, he had to make do. One half skeletal creature saw Robb, and screamed as it charged, running faster than any man Robb had ever seen. The scarred Stark quickly ducked below the axe blade, swiping Ice with force cutting the exposed spine in two before swinging back around to face the two parts of the dead man, swinging Ice around so the point of the blade faced the floor and drove the sword into both the skull and the snow underneath.

That kill exposed him though, as another Wight came clattering into him, knocking Robb off of his feet. Luckily, he kept his grip on Ice, and he brought it up to defend himself. Straining against the weight of the snapping man, Robb could feel his strength fading until suddenly a man in thick furs came barrelling into his attacker with force. Robb quickly got to his feet and watched as the Wildling King finished the Wight off with a Dragonglass dagger.

"Keep alert, Robb Stark." Mance Rayder began. "I won't always be there to…"

He was silenced with a groan, as an ice sword appeared through his chest. "No!" Robb screamed, bringing Ice up as a White Walker withdrew his blade from Mance's torso, waiting for the King Beyond the Wall to drop to the floor before stepping over his still writhing body to face Robb. The Walker swung the ice blade around his head, only to be met with a melodic twang as the Valyrian Steel of Ice held. Robb saw the confusion in the Walker's cold, blue eyes and Robb used that to his advantage, swinging Ice back around his head to go on the attack. He aimed for the Walker's left, for his leg and for his head with all of them getting parried but the Stark Lord kept pushing, using his anger to drive the walker back. Robb rained blow after blow upon the creature before a driving an overhead cut down, causing the creature to stumble under the force of the blow. Using the stumble, Robb drove Ice straight through the White Walker's chest with a roar, jumping back slightly as the creature crumbled into shards. Panting, Robb looked around as thousands of the wights crumbled, as if the magic binding them to whatever life they had just disappeared in an instant. The fight wasn't over however, as Robb swung his sword around his head once more to slash out at another Wight's head and carrying on the battle.

* * *

One of the things that Ser Gendry Durrande was most proud of was how he had managed to melt down some of the obsidian that he had been given at the wall to coat the spikes of his Father's old Warhammer in the substance. The bastard son of King Robert was like a demon outside the walls of Winterfell, swinging the hammer around and taking down dozens upon dozens of wights with his hybrid weapon.

The Night's Watch had dwindled down to it's last 30 or so men, the many skirmishes from Eastwatch to this moment having had a drastic impact on the once prestigious order, but Gendry unknowingly channelled his Father in his command, and the black cloaks fought ferociously on the front lines as the battle raged on both on the ground and in the sky. Even Sam Tarly, the once severely overweight man had managed while in Oldtown to trim some of the fat and fought back to back with Grenn, although Gendry still heard the odd whimper if a Wight got too close.

That whimper changed to a cry of "NO!" as Gendry caved in the skull of yet another rotting body. The Lord Commander turned around to see the Tarly boy, as he dragged Grenn over towards the centre, and close to where Gendry saw the banners of Randyll Tarly get swarmed.

"Night's Watch!" Gendry cried, swinging the hammer around his head again, before moving to an uppercut and sending the torso of a Wight flying into the air, it's legs still standing in the ground for a split second. "With me!"

Together, the few dozen men that remained fought in unison as Sam Tarly almost clawed his way through to where guardsmen of Lord Tarly had formed a tight circle. "Let me through!" Sam ordered, but the men dallied, and so Sam screamed. "I am his son, let me fucking through!" Gendry continued to hold wights off as Sam barged his way through, and though the fighting was still thick, the bastard could hear the conversation. "Father…"

"Sam." He heard the Master of War whimper out in pain. "You're alive…"

"So are you." He heard Sam say, surprised at the emotion in the man's voice.

Gendry heard a dying cough. "No Sam, I'm done." Tarly said, in pain yet still with a bitterness in his voice. "You… you're all that's left of our House."

"Don't say that you stubborn old bastard." Sam growled, and Gendry could tell he was crying. Randyll Tarly choked out a laugh, that turned into a growl of pain. Gendry smashed in another head before turning to see the two. Sam was crouched over a prone body, and if Gendry hadn't known the voice, the face wouldn't have been recognisable. Half of his face looked as if it had been clawed off by a beast of some sort.

"Take… take…" Randyll began, weakly holding out his own sword, before his hand fell limp. Sam lowered his head in silent mourning before grabbing the blade.

"Burn the body." He said darkly, venom in his eyes as one soldier was protected by the others started generating sparks, and caught the cloak of Randyll Tarly aflame, the body soon catching afterwards.

"Sam!" Gendry cried, crushing a wights leg before upper cutting once more to behead it. "We have to fight on."

Sam nodded, speaking to a soldier he clearly knew. "Kyle. Raise the banner."

"Yes milord… urm… Samwell." The man said, holding up the Tarly banner.

Sam held Heartsbane in the air. "HORN HILL!" He screamed, with a courage that Gendry had never seen of the bookworm before, as he led both the Watchmen and the levies of Horn Hill into thicker fighting.

* * *

While the wights were still swarming and killing many of the foot soldiers and cavalry on the ground, the battle in the air was still raging. Dany was absolutely terrified but determined to see that her child was avenged. Rhaellar was the smallest of the dragons, and she kept her distance for the most part while still swooping in to rip chunks out of Dārys' body and limbs. Aelyx was coming off bad too, but Jon was still holding his own, using his ability to move to use Blackfyre to swing at Dārys when the opportunity arose.

They were above Winterfell now, and both the male dragons were slowing down. Aelyx managed to rip a huge chunk out of Dārys' neck, roaring in triumph as the Night King's reanimated dragon staggered in the air, falling slightly. The victory was short lived however, as the undead dragon regained its balance. Aelyx swooped in for the kill once more, but the black beast managed to avoid its jaws, instead managing to snake around and dig its teeth into the join of the wing. Ripping away, Aelyx roared in agony as his wing was completely torn off, and the dragon plummeted to the ground.

"JON!" Dany screamed. " **The neck wound. Rip his head off!** " Dany commanded in Valyrian, and the cream and gold dragon did just that. She avoided Dārys' claws as she barrel rolled towards the neck wound, Dany clinging on for dear life until Rhaellar clamped her jaws into Dārys' neck and began shaking it around viciously.

The dragons tussled in the air, Dārys scratching with his feet when he could but the grip Rhaellar had him in was too much. Dany watched as the Night King somehow lost his grip and went tumbling down to the ground, disappearing into the chaos down below. Up in the sky though, Rhaellar was whipping her neck from left to right until she managed to open the dead dragon's neck so much that the force of the shaking did the rest, and Dārys' head was separated from its body.

Spitting it out, Rhaellar let out a deafening roar. Dany looked on sadly as the two parts of her biggest dragon fell to the floor with a crash, crushing dozens of wights and many of the Dornish and Ironborn part of the army too. Dany could feel tears mixing with the snowfall on her face and the pair of them were just hovering in the air until Rhaellar growled uncomfortably.

" **Land!** " Dany shouted, holding in her sobs. " **Rest, behind the walls!** "

The white dragon lowered towards the courtyard of Winterfell, landing awkwardly beside her fallen brother, who was still screeching in agony at the loss of his wing. Dany got off of Rhaellar and went to comfort the green dragon, but a body on the floor took her attention.

His eyes were closed, and his leg was caught under Aelyx. Blood poured from his head steadily. Dany held a hand to her mouth and cried out. "No!"

"Jon!" Ygritte's voice came from behind her, as the Wildling had abandoned her post to come rushing to the courtyard. "Wake up. Wake up you fucker." She cried as she skidded to her knees, holding his head in her hands.

"Ygritte… I'm so sorry." Dany said, tears falling of their own free will.

"Don't!" Ygritte snapped, crying herself. "Don't you fucking dare. Come on Jon Snow, open your eyes for me."

Dany couldn't stay there. She backed off slowly, devastated that her last adult kinsman had suffered such a fate before suddenly, she couldn't move in absolute terror. Jon had obeyed his wife's last request, but his eyes weren't their usual dark grey, but bright blue.

* * *

Edmure Tully was the first to be distracted by the tumultuous finale to the dragon battle, as his attention was taken by the brutality above him and he paid for that with a dozen knives in the chest. Durran felt ill as he saw the dragons falling, but the selfish sight of Rhaellar still flying after it all had filled him with enough hope and courage to keep ploughing through as many wights as he could find. He had also linked up with his Uncle, and together the Baratheon's proved their House words, and no dead man could stop them as they tore through the army of the dead.

For every man they killed however, it seemed they lost one too, and the White Walkers coming into play meant that every now and again a new wave of fresh corpses rose from the ground. Another instance of this happening had Durran turning to Stannis. "We need to kill those Walkers!" He roared.

Stannis agreed. "Stop standing around then!" He shouted back. Stannis then began striding over to the nearest blue skinned creature, swinging his sword around to take down wights in his way. Durran joined him with a grin, laughing manically as he took down his enemy. He was soon met by a giant however, and his courage turned to water.

He wasn't on his own though, as men of Storm's End and the rest of the Stormlands rallied around the King and they stabbed their spears and swords, surrounding the giant and poking him full of holes. Durran was the same, avoiding the legs as they kicked out, crushing people in his wake. Sensing an opportunity, Durran growled, and took out his dagger as well. "KEEP HIM BUSY!" He cried out, as he took Fury in his right hand and buried it deep into the Giant's hamstring, before using his dagger a little higher up. Stab after stab, Durran bravely climbed up the back of the Giant, praying to all Seven gods that the giant was kept too occupied by the dozens of men surrounding him to be able to swipe him off.

The King managed to get up to the neck but was having to hang on for dear life as the Giant's limbs were being torn to shreds to such an extent that the ligaments weren't joining. One scary moment came as it fell to one leg, after ten knights of the Stormlands led by Lord Rolland Caron, the former Bastard of Nightsong, hacked off a foot. Durran held on though, and with a roar buried his sword into the back of the giants neck and wrenched it across, severing the spine. The giant's head rolled forwards, half hanging off as the body lurched forwards too. Bracing himself, Durran clung onto the giants back as it crashed into the floor.

Panting, the King sat up. Rolland Storm looked slightly green as he helped Durran up, looking at the men that couldn't get out of the way in time. "You're fucking mad." Rolland told him.

"Someone had to do it." Durran panted. "Come on, there's more where they came from." They didn't meet another giant though, but instead Durran saw Stannis approach the White Walker they had been aiming for. "Stannis!" Durran cried, but the Lord of Storm's End didn't hear the cry, and instead tried to engage. His steel sword shattered at the contact with the ice weapon however, and while Stannis dodged a couple of swings and picked up another blade, he was still run through with the weapon. "NOOO!" Durran roared, sprinting over to his uncle, only to see the eldest Baratheon grinning as blood poured out his mouth, as he shoved a Dragonglass dagger into the shoulder of the unsuspecting Walker.

The creature shattered, and Stannis' legs buckled. Durran managed to catch him in time, but things didn't look good. His steel armour had been pierced all the way through and blood seeped out the wound. "Uncle Stannis." Durran cried, tears falling. "You fucking fool."

"I got it." Stannis grimaced in pain. "I did my duty… to you, Your Grace."

"Don't." Durran said, wiping his tears away. He could hear the Kingsguard surrounding him calling for his protection, but he didn't care. "Don't say goodbye."

"Tell Joy… Thank you. Tell Stefan… tell him…" Stannis began coughing. "To trust himself."

"Tell them yourself." Durran snarled. "I won't!"

Stannis held a hand up to hold Durran's cheeks. "It was an honour… an honour to serve… you…" He whispered, as the light faded out of his eyes.

Durran stayed there, holding his uncle in his arms in shock for at least a minute, before rage boiled over in his eyes and he let out a deafening roar. He felt hands on his shoulder, and Ser Barristan was pulling at him.

"We need to burn the body, Your Grace." The elderly knight said.

"No! He needs to be buried!" Durran argued like a child.

"Do it!" Ser Arys said, and Podrick Payne, who had found them during the battle, had a torch in his hands and lowered it onto Stannis until his flesh caught fire. Durran tried to struggle against Barristan's grip but he couldn't break free.

"No!" He cried. "No! He needs to wake up! No!" Durran screamed, but Barristan wouldn't let go.

"Call for a retreat." Barristan told Ser Arys Oakheart. "We'll get him within the safety of Winterfell for now! Get him to the Queen!"

Arys nodded and unstrapped a horn from around his back and blew once, signalling the retreat. Durran was still being pulled back, but all he saw was the body of his uncle burning in the snow.

* * *

Throughout all the chaos outside the walls of Winterfell, Bran had been recovering from the harrowing experience of his death inside the dragon. Arya had been waiting with him as patiently as she could be, but the elder sibling was having none of it anymore.

"Bran, you need to do something!" She urged. "We're retreating into the castle and they're still coming!"

Nodding, Bran said. "I will. You're needed out in the courtyard."

"I can't leave you unprotected." Arya said defiantly.

"I'm not unprotected, Arya." Bran told her calmly. "The Old Gods are with me."

At that, Bran let his eyes roll back as he found the mind of a raven, scouting. Spotting the single archer among the giants, Bran got an idea, and quickly released the raven before finding the giant and beating back his new hosts mind.

He felt powerful with the giant bow and tested the tension, before knocking an arrow and aiming at the head of another giant.

' _Don't think too much Bran._ ' He could hear in the back of his mind.

' _Relax your bow arm._ '

Bran did as his thoughts told him, and soon loosed the heavy arrow. The shaft hit its mark, and the giant's head exploded, causing the large Wight to drop to the floor. Bran nocked another arrow and did the same at his other side, taking out another of the massive beasts.

The wights were clued on to what was happening now, and they came streaming for Bran's host. With one other giant remaining Bran got ready to aim again, ignoring the pain of the wights stabbing at his shins. As he was about to loose the arrow the giant in question dropped to the ground with a thud, as hundreds of other wights either fell or disintegrated. Bran released himself from the giant and found the raven again, watching from afar as the giant was slowly taken down by the dead.

If ravens could gasp, the next thing Bran saw would have made that happen. The Night King had re-joined his new bride and was walking slowly towards the retreating living, but it was the creature at his side that Bran was surprised and horrified to see. A Direwolf, his Direwolf. Summer had fur that had stained red and multiple wounds adorning his long body.

For the first time since the Three Eyed Raven had stopped him from running up the stairs in the Tower of Joy, Bran was truly angry. Cawing in rage at the sight however, he attracted the attention of the Night King, who sharply looked directly into his eyes, pushing him out of the Raven's mind and back into his own.

Bran gasped as he caught his breath. "No." He growled. "Not again. Not Summer."

Placing a hand on the Weirwood's face for strength, Bran found the mind of his first animal. Blinking, he felt the snow underneath his paws as he trotted along beside the Night King and the Lady Melisandre. Snarling, he leapt up at the woman, taking a bite of her arm. She was too powerful though, and she moved her hand back sharply, to bring it forward and hit Summer's body with the palm of her hand, setting the Direwolf alight.

Bran quickly released Summer, gasping for air as his head was pounding from the experience. Leaning back weakly in his chair, Bran whispered. "Now, you are free."

* * *

Sword met sword as two lovers fought. One had angry tears in her blue grey eyes, the other just an enraged look in his dead, blue eyes. Jon Snow had been reanimated once again, though this time he had come back as the thing he had spent his adult life trying to destroy. Blackfyre swung with no precision, just the rage of the dead. Ygritte was just as angry however, blocking the Valyrian Steel blade with everything she had.

Arya arrived at the scene once Bran had let her leave and mimicked Daenerys in just watching on with horror, until she withdrew her custom made Braavosi blade and went to join in. She couldn't get a decent blow in however, and Ygritte was left to fight on her own.

"This can't be happening." Arya growled, wishing once more that she had Nymeria by her side. It was happening however, and the scene turned to horror as Blackfyre pierced through Ygritte's stomach, and the dead Jon Targaryen snarled in victory.

Arya cried out in anguish as the Wildling girl dropped her sword and placed them around her belly. "Jon… Snow…" She gasped out, before collapsing to the ground unmoving, the sword of King's still poking out from her body. Arya flew into a rage then, rushing at Jon and knocking him over, stabbing him with the skinny steel blade over and over, as her knees held his hands in place.

"GIVE! ME! BACK! MY! BROTHER!" Arya screamed as she plunged her sword into Jon's torso and neck with every word. This just enraged him, as he leant forwards and bit into Arya's neck. The Stark girl screamed, and was thrown backwards, her hands automatically going to stop the blood flow from the teeth marks. Jon's body got up, his evil blue eyes trained on her as he advanced on Arya slowly, before being halted as Daenerys, having finally gotten over her shock of what had happened, swung Dark Sister at his neck, slicing clean through the skin and bone.

Gasping, and holding her blade outwards still dripping with blood, Arya's eyes widened in surprise as shining off of the dripping blade came sunlight. Dany noticed it too and held the blade in the air, allowing the blade to reflect the first sunrise in days to such an extent you'd have been forgiven for thinking the sword was aflame. "Lightbringer…" She whispered, but Arya didn't understand. Groaning, she moved herself to get to her feet, still holding her neck, and the Stark girl grabbed a torch, throwing it on to Jon's body.

"What the hell happened?" A voice came from behind as the gates slammed shut, with soldiers streaming into the courtyard. Arya turned around to see Robb still alive and standing with the King, both men covered in gore and panting. She rushed towards her brother and enveloped him in a hug, feeling blood trickle down her neck.

"Jon… He was Nissa Nissa, Dark Sister is Lightbringer." Dany said to her husband as they embraced too. "The stories… they're real. Dawn is here."

She was right, as the sky slowly filled with orange. Their delight at bringing the sun back was soon shattered by a loud thud at Winterfell's main gates.

* * *

Robb had sent Arya away to get patched up and joined the King and Queen on the battlements as they watched the wights clatter against the gates.

"They won't hold for long." Durran grimaced.

"I can't use Rhaellar, she's too injured." Dany told them, upset.

"The Walkers. All we need to do is focus on the Walkers. There can't be many of them left!" Robb said through gritted teeth.

"Three, maybe 4?" Durran said, trying to remember how many had been killed. "Stannis… Stannis killed one." He added sadly.

"I've got two." Robb told them. "I saw Hightower slay one as well before he fell."

"Harlaw got the giant raiser." Durran remembered. "Aye, not many left at all." The northern dialect seeped into his words.

"Then we focus on them." Robb nodded, looking around. "Arthur!" He called to a ginger wearing the surcoat of House Glenmore, one of his bannermen. "Thank fuck you're still breathing! Excuse me, Your Grace."

"Go." Durran nodded, knowing the Glenmore's were the finest archers in the North. He turned to Dany as he led her back down to the courtyard. "I want you with Rhaellar in the courtyard. She may be grounded but she still has fire. Light them up."

"I will." Dany told him. "So many are dead…"

"And the bastards keep rising afterwards, if we can't burn them." Durran gritted his teeth in fury. "Robb is right, focus on the Walker's and the spell is broken. Kill the Night King and maybe they all die."

"STAND CLEAR!" Durran heard, and he turned to see his half-brother moving the majority of survivors that had come through that gate back, giving it a wide berth. Ice began forming around the centre of the gates.

"Go." He told Dany. "Hurry!" She did as asked and ran back through the castle. Durran closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the Warrior. "Guide my arm and guide my feet, give me a Walker to slay, and give us the victory." He whispered, repeating it as the ice spread to the whole gates. Durran looked up and saw Robb marshalling the archers, as they fired from the tops of the walls. A cheer went up, and Durran presumed they'd got one of the Walkers with a Dragonglass arrow, but then the gates exploded.

Ducking out of the way of the debris, Durran held his arm out to protect his face, slowly lowering it to see the Night King and Lady Melisandre standing there. Nothing moved for a second, until wights came rushing through the gates of Winterfell.

Durran saw Gendry roar as he was the first one to engage with his hammer, and soon the wights were upon the King too, and Fury was soon covered in whatever remnants of Wight it carved through. Body after body fell at his blade, as there was only one thing on Durran's mind.

The Night King and Melisandre hadn't moved, but another Walker had entered the castle boundary with a long ice spear. Durran adjusted his antlered helm quickly before rushing in, followed by two of his ever dutiful Kingsguard, although he didn't know who was still with him. The white cloaks cleared the way as Durran ploughed through the onrushing wights with the mission of reaching the Walker fresh in his mind. He soon managed it, and Fury and the Walker's weapon made music as they clashed. Grunting and crying out, Durran poured every bit of his strength into the fight but the Walker blocked everything. The creature then went on the offensive, but Durran managed to grab the Walker's sword arm with his own left hand, screaming out at the agony of the cold rushing through his gauntlets but forcing himself to run his sword into the Walker's neck, shattering it.

This must have been one of the eldest Walker's, as both inside the walls and outside of them thousands of wights crumbled to bones, causing the few thousand that still lived to cheer, pushing their morale just high enough to cause a surge of men to attack the gates. Durran backed off as men rushed past him, gripping the hand that was in absolute agony.

' _The Godswood. Come._ ' A voice said in his head, and Durran felt himself moving back towards the main courtyard of the castle and through the archway into the sacred area of Winterfell.

* * *

Robb saw the King retreat clutching his hand, and dread filled him as he saw the Night King and Melisandre make their way slowly towards the Godswood as well. Holding Ice in both hands he tried to make his way back down the stone steps to the ground, but wights were savagely forcing their way in the opposite direction. The fighting was narrow, but Robb kept swinging Ice and stopping the dead in their tracks, until one barrelled into him, knocking him off of the steps, and making him fall down around 8 feet onto the ground with a thud.

Groaning, Robb rolled onto his front and crawled over to where he had dropped ice, picking up the blade as he tried to get to his feet, only stumbling once. Forcing himself to his feet, Robb rubbed his aching back, when running towards him he saw the familiar Tully armour with countless holes in, and ginger hair of his Uncle Edmure.

Snarling, Robb forced himself to grit his teeth through the pain and swing Ice at his undead uncle. The Tully Wight countered once, but the force of Robb's strikes was too great, and the dead Lord collapsed as his body was carved in two from shoulder to hip. Robb made sure that he wouldn't rise again, numbing himself emotionally as he forced Ice through his Uncle's skull. Bringing the blade back up, his bones shuddered as a screech came from behind him. Turning just in time to parry the double handed ice blade, Robb yet again found himself locking swords with a White Walker. He was done with prolonging the fights now though, as he rained blow after blow upon the creature before swinging Ice down onto the Walker's skull, shattering it into millions of pieces.

The Wight's were dwindling now, as more just dropped to the floor when the magic that bound them to mobility disappeared. Robb didn't stop to take a breath however, as he shouted over to a still warring Ser Barristan. "The Godswood!"

* * *

Durran stumbled into the picturesque miniature forest that was the Godswood, his head throbbing. Over by the heart tree he saw Dany crouched over Bran Stark, who looked to be writhing in agony. Rushing over, he grasped the arm of Bran's chair. "What happened?" He asked.

"I don't know." Dany cried. "He was fitting when I got here."

"After me." Bran managed to get out, as his spasms grew weaker. "He's after me."

"Why?" Dany asked, but there was no time for an answer. The weather chilled and the leaves of the Weirwood's suddenly grew thick with ice. Both Durran and Daenerys turned slowly towards the entrance of the Godswood, as the Night King and his bride appeared, their feet covered by icy mist.

"Get out of here." Durran whispered. "Get on Rhaellar and fly away. If I fall, then incinerate the castle. Ignite the wights, ignite the Walkers. Just burn them all."

"Burn them all." Bran gasped, as his eyes went white and he started shaking again. "Burn them all. Burn them all!"

Dany shook her head. "No. I'm with you till the end."

Durran took his spare hand and cupped her chin, leaning down to capture her lips one last time. They broke apart after a moment and turned to face the oncoming enemy with venom in their eyes.

Durran rushed forwards, another loud roar coming from his mouth as Fury connected with the giant two-handed scythe of the Night King. He tried to overpower the creature of nightmare as their blades locked, forcing Fury down towards the demon, but the Night King was strong too, and he pushed Durran away with relative ease.

"The woman is his weakness." Bran said from the Weirwood, his face shaking quickly, "Kill her. Kill her. Kill her."

Looking worriedly at Dany, who held Dark Sister in her hands shakily, Durran's rage grew at the thought of losing his love, and he spun around evading the horizontal swing of the scythe, and powering through the sudden blast of wind coming from the witch's hands, feeling his blade sink deeply into Melisandre's breast. The colour started going back to her hair as the Valyrian Steel stuck in her body, with her face losing its paleness as she smiled down at the sight of the sword in her belly.

"R'hllor stands victorious." She choked out. "He is like any man, weakened… weakened by his Queen."

She pushed out, and Durran fell backwards into the snow, coughing as the wind was knocked out of his chest. He looked back up at the Red Witch as she embraced her fate, her dress hem beginning to burn until she was completely aflame. Durran had to cover his eyes with the still painful hand from earlier, until suddenly the light dimmed, and Fury was spat back towards him.

For the first time, emotion seemed to show in the Night King's eyes as they narrowed in rage. Durran had to be quick to hold Fury up, but the blade was quickly parried to one side by the giant scythe before the Night King made ready to finish his kill.

"No!" Dany shouted, as she swung her own Valyrian blade at the Night King, who had to block it. That gave Durran enough time to roll to the side, picking up Fury as he went. Getting back to his feet he saw Dany being pushed backwards and moved in, swinging Fury with all his might only to be blocked again.

Together, the Targaryen and the Baratheon united in their assault, hacking at the Night King with everything they had, but the demon was equal to them both. He lashed out with his foot, causing Dany to fall to the ground before he swung the giant weapon around his head, causing Durran to parry to his left quickly. The Night King then swung again and Durran barely caught the parry, as the Scythe was directed into his left-hand side.

The blade seemed to melt through the armour and dug half an inch or so into Durran's flesh. Screaming in agony, Durran grabbed the Night King's arm, holding the blade there. The battle of strength was evenly matched as the Night King failed to retrieve his weapon, his bright blue eyes baring into Durran's own darker blue with rage, as Durran determinedly held him into place. Suddenly a gasp, as Dark Sister's point forced its way into the Night King's back and out his chest.

The White Walker dropped his weapon, leaving Durran to rip it out of his side with an anguished scream as he dropped to the floor. Looking up, he saw the Night King staggering backwards. Dany moved out of the way and ran to protect Durran, but there was no need. Looking surprised, the Night King stared into the violet eyes of its slayer, his own eyes wide in fear. Slowly, bits began breaking off. Fingers at first, then chunks of its arms, facial features and neck until suddenly the Night King crumbled to the ground.

Dany took that moment to swing round and kneel before her husband, holding his head in her arms. "You're ok. Please tell me you're ok." She began to tear up.

"I'm fine." Durran gasped, in agony but knowing it was only a flesh wound. "You did it… You beat him."

"We beat him." Dany told him firmly. "Together."

"United." Durran grimaced, as he tried to sit himself up. He put one arm around her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. Bodies came rushing into the Godswood then, as Robb Stark and Gendry led some of the survivors into the sacred place. Durran saw Robb cock his head questioningly, and Durran just nodded. No words needed saying. The cost was great, and it would take generations to truly rebuild, but the living had done it. They had won.


	46. Epilogue

**13 Years Later - 320 AC**

A strong wind was assaulting the lavish tent decorated in the gold and black of House Baratheon, as King Durran sat on his bed, eagerly telling a story to two young boys.

"At that moment, Rhaellar roared from above us and your Mother jumped from her back with her sword poised and struck the Night King in the head!" Durran said excitedly, doing the actions for his two sons benefit. "The demon split in two with a roar! And the sun shone once again as all the skeletons in his army crumbled to dust!"

"Yeah!" The youngest of the pair, 8-year-old Aegon Baratheon cheered.

His elder brother by three years also had a huge grin on his face. "What happened then, Father?" Renly asked.

Durran grinned, knowing that what was to come wasn't the truth. "Then, my boy, we partied for what seemed like a whole year! From Winterfell to Starfall the realm was in delight, as the sun shone down on us all."

"But Winter didn't end." Renly reminded him. Durran's grin fell slightly, but he still smiled for his boys.

"No, Winter lasted another seven years. It was tough for all of us, but especially here in the North." Durran told them, becoming more teacher than storyteller. "But while the Starks are always right with their words…"

"Winter is Coming!" Aegon exclaimed, interrupting.

"Yes, Winter is coming." Durran nodded. "But the opposite can also be said. Summer always comes afterwards. You are lucky Egg, you only remember the Summer."

"Are you sure it's Summer here Father?" Renly asked. "It snowed yesterday."

Durran laughed. "Yes it did, because the North is so cold that even in the Summer they get snows."

"It was brilliant." Aegon grinned. "I got Cass with a snowball!"

Durran remembered it being less enthralling, having to ride along with his tearful youngest child after the incident. "And what did Mother tell you after that?" He warned.

"Not to hit family." Aegon dropped his head in shame.

"Good." Durran said, ruffling his youngest son's black, shoulder length hair. "Family is important, and never forget that."

The tent flaps opened then, as Lord Commander Arys Oakheart poked his head through, Durran's longest serving protector having ascended to the role after Ser Barristan's peaceful death 9 years before. "Your Grace, Prince Gowen is here."

"Let him through." Durran nodded, standing up and picking up his thick, black wolfskin coat, a gift from the North for his latest nameday. Soon Durran's second eldest son entered the tent, dressed in a striking black doublet with the gold of his Father's house and the red of his Mother's detailing the garment. "Father, Mother is getting impatient."

Durran nodded, turning to his younger sons. "Where are your cloaks?"

Renly had his beside him, but Aegon looked around sharply, not finding it. Gowen shook his head and held it out for him. "Here, Egg. You left it on your pony again."

Aegon quickly got up and took the cloak, quietly thanking his elder brother. "Come on then boys, we'll be at Winterfell by noon if we hurry."

Egg grinned. "I'll race you!" He exclaimed towards his brothers before he rushed out of the tent. Renly just sighed and walked out slowly, groaning as Gowen grabbed him in a brotherly headlock and ruffled his hair. Durran grinned, strapping the cloak to his back and then putting on his sword belt. He caught a glance in the Myrish glass on a table and stroked his greying beard before leaving the warmth of the tent, being assaulted by the wind.

"You can go and prepare your horse if you like Arys." Durran told his long-time friend. "I'll be safe with the Queen."

"Of course, Your Grace." Arys bowed his head. "I still say we should have given that dragon the white cloak."

Durran chuckled. "You can try pinning it if you're brave enough old friend."

Arys grinned before bowing and taking his leave, as Durran walked beyond the quickly established camp to where the horses were being prepared. Soon enough he was weighed down as a black-haired girl clung to his shins. "Father!" She cried.

Durran smiled, and leant down to pick up his eldest daughter, Naerys. "Where did you come running from?" Durran asked as he brought her up to face level.

"Cassie was taking forever to get dressed so I escaped." Naerys grinned, one of her front teeth was missing however and it made for an amusing sight. "So I came to see you!"

Shaking his head, he placed a kiss on her cheek. "You shouldn't run off like that. Your Mother will be worried if she doesn't know where you are."

Naerys nodded, placing her head in his neck. "Sorry Father." She whispered. Durran saw where his wife and youngest child were preparing their horses, and so Durran walked over and placed Naerys on the ground.

"There you are!" Dany cried, looking at the six-year-old. "I thought you'd been eaten by a Direwolf!"

Naerys shook her head, but little Cassana's eyes widened. "They aren't real, are they mama?" The five-year-old asked softly.

"Oh yes." Durran told her, helping her onto her pony. "Lord Stark has one the size of Muttons here." He said, patting the pony. "But Grey Wind, is very nice." He moved back towards where Daenerys was mounting her horse and stood beside her as she settled herself. "Have you got them both or do you want me to send Pod down with you?" He asked, knowing that Naerys especially was likely to go roaming.

"I've got them." Dany told him. "Go on, we can't leave until you're ready and I'm eager to feel those hot springs again."

Nodding, Durran turned away to where his horse had been prepared for him. Mounting up, he looked behind him where his wife, 5 of his children, 4 of his Kingsguard and the rest of his retinue that weren't packing up the camp were all mounted. He turned back Northwards and kicked his horse off into a steady walk.

* * *

They had ridden up the Kingsroad when Durran fell into line with his wife. Aegon and Naerys had raced off ahead, with Gowen riding beside them keeping them from going too far. "Any word from home this morning?" Dany asked.

Durran nodded. "Stefan sent this to Castle Cerwyn." He said, reaching inside his own doublet for a raven message. "He had to speak to Duncan about his dalliance with your niece."

Dany groaned. "He's not dishonoured her, has he?"

"No." Durran said, feeling as relieved as Dany looked. "But it seems he's struggling to wait until next year to marry Rhaena."

"He'll have to." Dany said firmly.

"Stefan has it under control." Durran said calmly. His Hand of the King had sent Duncan to Casterly Rock with Cersei so that they could go and see Tommen's new heir for the first time to get the pair away from each other, a move that Durran was grateful for. "Are you sure about them marrying? I know their fond of one another, but it'll mean the end of House Targaryen."

Dany nodded. "As long as a Targaryen is alive and isn't linked to a Baratheon then our son is at risk. There are still those in Dorne that plot against us my love."

Durran knew all too well. "Very well." He said. Looking up, he could see a castle in the distance. "But let's not speak of those snakes, we have a daughter to see once again and a wedding to attend." He smiled, as he dug his heel into his horse to ride slightly faster towards the castle of House Stark.

* * *

Meanwhile in Winterfell, the castle was manic with activity. All around him Robb could vaguely notice men and women rushing around the castle getting everything ready for the King's arrival. Stag banners had been put up alongside the Direwolf of House Stark, and a feast was being prepared.

Robb meanwhile had left all that to his son's betrothed. Princess Elaenor had moved up to Winterfell as a ten-year-old, and for the past two years had basically been the Lady of Winterfell after Roslin's death birthing a stillborn boy. He missed her but was grateful that she had gifted him with two boys and a daughter before her death.

"You're too solemn, My Lord." Elaenor's voice came from behind him. Robb turned to see the Baratheon beauty approach.

"I'm just lost in thought, Princess." Robb told her, turning back to the bronze statue that had been built in the courtyard of Winterfell after the battle. It portrayed a large longsword but had all the sigils of the Houses of Westeros carved into the blade, to show the unity that was needed in order to beat the Walkers. "The last time your Father came to Winterfell himself was for the battle."

"So much has changed." Elaenor nodded. "Winter was harsh on us all."

Robb agreed. It seemed that it had affected none more so than his own House. Shaking his dreary thoughts however, he turned to the Princess. "Anyway, how are you? Are you ready?"

Elaenor smiled. "I've been ready to marry Brandon for years, Lord Stark."

"They're here!" A voice came from atop the battlements. Robb looked over to see his youngest son Edwyle running down the steps. "There's dozens of them!"

Elaenor couldn't contain her grin. "Go and get Brandon and Bethany, tell them the King is close." Robb told his ward. Nodding, Elaenor picked up her skirts and ran back towards the Great Keep, where Robb's eldest son and daughter were.

* * *

Just like two decades before, the entire population of Winterfell had gathered out in the courtyard before the Great Keep to welcome the King of the Seven Kingdom's. Durran rode into the castle in the middle of the procession of Baratheon guards, and the group halted as the Stark's fell to their knees.

Durran dismounted, his face stern as he walked over to the kneeling Lord of Winterfell. Robb had grown his hair longer to cover his burn scars. Stopping in front of the kneeling Lord, he gestured for him to rise. Robb did so, and the rest of the courtyard followed suit.

The pair stared into one another's eyes. "You got fat." Durran told him, in the same sort of tone that King Robert had used on Lord Eddard all those years ago. Robb's lips twitched in amusement, the Stark had gotten slightly less lean, but was still a healthy size. Nodding his head down to Durran's own lean belly as Lord Eddard had also done, Robb continued the joke. Grinning, Durran hugged his once enemy, since friend fiercely. "It's good to see you Robb." Durran told the man.

"And you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours." He bowed his head. Durran appreciated that, and he began moving down the line as was expected of him. He stopped in front of the heir to Winterfell and his future goodson. "You must be Brandon." He said firmly.

"Aye, Your Grace." Brandon Stark bowed his head.

Nodding his acceptance, Durran moved along to the 14-year-old Edwyle Stark. "How's your sword arm?" He asked.

"Improving every day, Your Grace." Edwyle replied proudly. Durran smirked at the Northern boasting, before finally settling eyes on the so-called prize of the North, Bethany Stark.

"You're a pretty one." He complimented. "How old are you?"

"10, Your Grace." Bethany replied confidently. Durran smiled and patted her head, before returning to Robb as Dany walked up to them.

"My Queen." Robb bowed, kissing Dany's hand.

"It's good to see you, Lord Stark. I was sorry to hear about Lady Roslin." She said quietly. Robb tipped his head in acknowledgement.

Now that formality was out of the way, Durran only had eyes for the blue-eyed woman stood to the left of Robb. "You've grown into a woman." He remarked.

"That tends to happen, Your Grace." Elaenor smirked. Durran barked out a laugh and moved forward, hugging his daughter.

"We missed you." He whispered into her ear.

"Come, let us head inside and let the Princess reunite with her family." Robb said loudly. Durran nodded his appreciation as the courtyard began to empty, and Elaenor greeted her mother with a fierce hug. She soon hugged Gowen too, who was almost as tall as his elder sister, then Renly and Aegon.

"You were just a babe the last time I saw you." She teased her younger brother. Aegon pulled a face at her, causing them all to laugh. Soon she knelt before her two sisters. "You must be Naerys and Cassana." She said kindly.

"Are you our sister?" Naerys asked.

Elaenor smiled. "I am, I've been in Winterfell for a long time though."

"Is it true you have a dragon?" Cassana asked quietly. Elaenor grinned.

"Stormfyre is out hunting at the moment, but if you like, I'll take you for a fly when he's back." Elaenor whispered. Durran groaned. He thought himself fairly lucky when Elaenor's egg was the only one to hatch, even though all of his children had eggs. Now all of them would want hatchlings. "But you must all be cold! Come along inside and let me show you to your rooms." Elaenor said brightly, leading the Baratheon's into the Great Keep.

* * *

Neither King nor Warden of the North stayed at the feast for long. They sat there for long enough as was appropriate before they escaped towards the cold, darkness of the Winterfell crypts. Durran was enthralled by the history, walking past the final resting places of legends. He stopped as they went past Ned Stark though and paid his respects there.

"He died for my claim." Durran said solemnly. "I can never thank the man enough for putting himself through."

"He always did what was right." Robb said. "It still feels strange to me now that I've ruled the North for longer than he did."

"And you've done a good job." Durran insisted. "Is the Wall down yet?"

"Almost." Robb replied. "The mountains in the West are still treacherous, but Ned Umber and his Free Folk wife have organised filling the castles and farming in the far North, we're getting there."

Durran smiled at that. The decision had been made to tear down the Wall now that the threat had been eliminated so that the Free Folk could go home if they wished, but the lands would become part of the Iron Throne, just under a more relaxed system. "How is Rickon, by the way?" Durran asked. He had seen Arya and her son Jon on the way through Moat Cailin, but the King hadn't seen the youngest of Lord Stark's children since they passed one another on the Kingsroad 13 years earlier.

"He's a father." Robb chuckled. "Aye, he and Lady Karstark had a daughter three years back. Osha they called her." Durran couldn't imagine the rowdy Rickon as a father, but then again, he couldn't imagine his own cousins as parents, yet all three of Stannis' children had proven fertile. They moved along to the next statue, and the sombre mood crept back. "My mother couldn't handle it, after his death." Robb explained.

A flashback to the last moments of the war hit Durran, as Bran Stark spasmed in the Godswood. "Did he see much afterwards?" He asked.

"Everything." Robb said, placing a candle at the bottom of Bran's statue. "It drove Mother further into her depressive state. Did you go via Riverrun on your way North?"

Durran shook his head. "I sent Gowen to see if Shireen wanted to bring Lady Catelyn and the twins, but she refused." He said. "I'm sorry."

Robb shook his head. "It took a toll on us all at the end." He sighed. "His madness affected the castle. Dying… it was a blessing for him I think."

Durran could understand. "We have to keep moving forwards though." He said. "They wouldn't want us to waste our lives in mourning. My Father would kick my arse through all Seven Hells if I tried." He breathed out a laugh. "He'll be smiling down on us soon. It was his dream to wed Baratheon and Stark."

"Aye, and soon we shall finally make his dream a reality." Robb nodded.

* * *

A couple of weeks after the Baratheon party arrived at Winterfell the occasion they had all travelled for so long for arrived. As soon as night had fallen the various Lords and Ladies of the North that had come to Winterfell for the wedding all disappeared to the Godswood, and Durran was left in the castle as he prepared to give away his daughter.

The moment she appeared from her chambers in a simple, yet elegant white gown, Durran would remember until the day he died. "You look beautiful, Elle." He told her.

Elaenor's cheeks turned a light pink. "Thank you, Father." She beamed.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Durran made sure. "I can whisk you back home if you would prefer."

Elaenor just laughed. "I have a dragon." She reminded him. "But no, I'll always love King's Landing, but Winterfell is my home now, Father. That's why we're having the ceremony by the Weirwood instead of the sept. My children will be Starks of Winterfell, followers of the Old Gods."

Durran nodded, kissing his daughter on the forehead. "You're going to make a wonderful Lady of Winterfell. Those children will be lucky to have you as their mother."

Smiling, Elaenor added. "Let's go and make it happen then."

Durran shook his head. "One more thing." He said, as he opened a small chest that had been sent to Elaenor's rooms as they arrived. He pulled out a slightly worn golden cloak, with the black stag of House Baratheon in the centre. "This is the same cloak that I used to wed your Mother."

Elle looked at it in awe, holding the fabric in her hands. "I don't know what to say." She whispered.

"Don't say anything." Durran smiled down at her. "Turn around." She did as he asked, and he gently placed the cloak over her shoulders, tying it loosely around her neck. "Let's get you wed."

She took his arm gently and the two walked through the castle and out towards the Godswood. The path was lit up by numerous candles either side of walkway, and Durran proudly walked his daughter past all the Lords and Ladies of the North, each person holding their own lantern as tradition called for. They reached the end of the path and stopped in the middle of the youngest Stark children standing with their Aunt Arya and Uncle Rickon, and on Durran's right stood his own family, minus Duncan.

Robb and Brandon stood before the Weirwood tree, and the elder stepped forwards. "Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" He asked.

"Elaenor, of the House Baratheon." Durran answered. "A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?" He felt slightly wrong at giving his daughter away to Gods he didn't worship, but the war had taught him many things about other religions powers and even as King of Westeros, Durran felt tiny in comparison to the face on the Weirwood tree.

Brandon stepped forwards, reminding Durran of a younger Ned Stark with the way he wore his cloak and braided his hair. "Brandon, of House Stark. Heir to Winterfell. Who gives her?" He said in his deep Northern accent.

"Durran, of House Baratheon." Durran began. "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Her Father."

Robb then looked towards Elaenor. "Princess Elaenor, do you take this man?"

Elaenor looked towards the groom, and a big smile appeared on both their faces. Looking back at Robb she said proudly. "I take this man."

Robb had a smile on his face too, as he stepped forwards to take Elaenor's hand, placing it in his sons. "Then kneel before the Gods and let them bless this union." He told them both. Durran moved to stand beside his own wife as Brandon and Elaenor did just that, and the entirety of the Godswood bowed their heads in prayer as the couple knelt before the Weirwood for a moment, before standing again. Brandon then stepped behind Elaenor and gently unlaced the ties keeping her Baratheon cloak up, folding it in his hands and moving to pass it over to Durran.

"Look after her." Durran whispered.

"I will." Brandon replied, as he swapped aisles and grabbed a Stark cloak from Rickon and placed that on the bride's shoulders instead.

The couple then made their way down the aisle between all the guests hand in hand, as the Godswood followed them in an organised fashion towards the Great Hall, where the wedding feast was to be held.

* * *

The feast was excellent. Music rang through the room as the guests all enjoyed food, wine and the bawdy dancing that the Northerners favoured. Ned Umber especially was rather handsy with some of the women in the dance.

Durran and Dany preferred to sit together and watch the procession, laughing on at some of the antics going on and smiling fondly as Elaenor and Brandon danced throughout the night together, never taking their eyes off of one another.

"I never imagined what a good match I made when I suggested this at Hayford." Durran said to his Queen.

"A union born of war." Dany laughed. "It reminds me of us."

Durran agreed, and the two clinked their goblets together at the memory of their wedding so long ago. The King looked around for his children. Naerys and Aegon, his two most boisterous of children were in a corner holding hands with Bethany Stark while spinning in circles in time to the music while Cassana had fallen asleep in her chair. Durran grabbed the attention of Renly, who was in an avid conversation with Arya Stark's son of the same age, Jon. Sighing, Renly got the message and scooped little Cassana up taking her to bed.

"Would you like to go for a walk, my Queen?" Durran asked holding his hand out. Dany smiled and accepted his hand, and the pair regally walked out of the Great Hall, making sure to tell Ser Barristan to keep an eye on the children still enjoying the festivities.

The cool air hit them first as they stepped out into the courtyard of Winterfell, and a light summer snow began to fall. Durran and Dany lost formality then, just happily walking around in each other's company. They did stumble across Edwyle Stark however, catching him in the act of a heavy kissing session with the Lady of the Dreadfort, the late Roose Bolton's daughter Alarra.

"Do you remember our first meeting?" Dany asked.

Durran barked out a laugh. "I was only looking for the dragon skulls. I didn't expect to find a real dragon."

Grinning, Dany playfully hit her husband's arm. "I'm serious. I dread to think about what would have happened if you hadn't have walked into my cell."

Durran shook his head. "The Seven fated us to meet my love. They just cursed me to wait another three years before I grew brave enough to defy my Mother."

Dany laughed, clutching him tighter and moving closer to his body. "I'm glad that you did." She whispered.

"As am I." Durran told her, turning her to face him. "You are the love of my life, Daenerys Stormborn, and I look forward to many more years with you at my side."

The Baratheon King leant down to capture her lips with his own, and the two shared a romantic kiss in the snow as the soft tones of the music from the wedding continued to play. Peace had held for thirteen years, and the pair were determined that so long as they stood united, nothing would change that.


	47. Great Houses of Westeros - 320AC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick summary of how Westeros stands after the epilogue, as requested by readers over on fanfiction.net

_**The Great Houses of Westeros circa 320 After Conquest as written by Archmaester Danny** _

**House Baratheon of King's Landing:**

**King Durran Baratheon/Queen Daenerys Targaryen** : The aftermath of the War for the Dawn was peaceful for the realm, as the surviving men and women of Westeros were often too busy working to even think about causing trouble. With peace followed lots of little black-haired children running about the Red Keep, and while the pair were careful in the first couple of years to not get with child, the arrival of young Renly soon sparked a flame within them, and three more children followed.

**\- Princess Elaenor (17): Born 303AC**  – After it was decided that Elaenor was to foster in Winterfell at the age of ten, the Princess soon learned what it meant to struggle through Winter. Forced into the role of Lady of Winterfell early, Elaenor has grown to be a strong young Lady and won the hearts and minds of those north of the Neck with both her humour and her grace.

**\- Crown Prince Duncan (15): Born 305AC**  – Prince Duncan has often been described as his Father reborn. Falling in love with his cousin Rhaena Targaryen from an early age, the Prince has been betrothed to her for years. As strong a fighter with his two-handed battle axe as his paternal Grandfather was with a Warhammer and a willingness to see to the running of the realm, Prince Duncan has warmed himself to nobles and smallfolk alike as a worthy heir to the Throne.

**\- Prince Gowen (14): Born 306AC**  – None of the King's children have taken to swordplay as Prince Gowen has. While still young the Prince has been unwillingly dubbed as 'the Bold Reborn', such does his skill rival Ser Barristan Selmy's in his youth. Gowen is known to have struggled with his learning however, and has loudly and proudly boasted that his only goal in life is to serve on his brother's Kingsguard. Word has it that Prince Gowen is set to be gifted with the Valyrian Steel sword of his ancestor Aegon Targaryen on his 16th nameday by his parents.

**\- Prince Renly (11): Born 309AC**  – While his elder brothers are more martially talented, Prince Renly of Summerhall, named after his Great Uncle, is more skilled with his mind. Frequently being chased out of the library the boy has an exceptional talent for retaining knowledge and could name the banners belonging to all the Houses of the Crownlands by the age of 4. Not wanting to be a Maester however, it is thought that the King is favouring a betrothal with one of the Lannister twins. Will hold the seat of Summerhall after it's rebuilding.

**\- Prince Aegon (8): Born 312AC**  – The future Prince of Dragonstone after King Durran decided that the heir to the Throne should stay close to the Throne. Prince Aegon is a wilful child that looks up to his Father as if he was of the Age of Heroes. A natural on horseback, Prince Aegon is set to foster with Lord Monterys Velaryon on his 9th nameday and is betrothed to Lady Alyssa Velaryon (311AC).

**\- Princess Naerys (6): Born 314AC**  – Princess Naerys is Daena the Defiant reborn. A natural beauty but almost as wilful as her elder brother Prince Aegon, Naerys is constantly escaping her Septa's lessons in order to join her elder brother's in the tiltyard. She has been promised archery lessons as soon as she gains the strength to hold a bow.

**\- Princess Cassana (5): Born 315AC**  – The last of the King's children and the most timid. Princess Cassana is rarely seen without her Mother or Father and scares easily, much to the amusement of Princess Naerys and Prince Aegon.

 

**Lady Myrcella Dayne:**  King Durran's Mistress of Whisperers, Myrcella seems to have the talent of being able to charm somebody into revealing their plots. She moved back to King's Landing with her son Vorian in 316AC.

 

**Lord Tommen Lannister:**  Lord Tommen survived the Battle of Winterfell and immediately returned home to marry Lady Lyla Crakehall. The Warden of the West is quoted as saying. "After the horrors and demons in the North, one needs some calmness and beauty in his life."

 

**Ser Gendry Durrande**  – Gendry stayed in the North after the War, aiding Lord Stark in the dismantling of the Wall. The bastard of King Robert was given Castle Black in his own right, and is so far yet to take a wife or have any children.

 

 

**House Targaryen:**

**Rhaena (16): Born 304 AC**  – Lady Rhaena Targaryen was brought up in and among her Aunt's children, much to the realm's surprise. King Durran sited the ruling of the Great Council of 101AC, and as soon as Rhaena became of age she knelt before the Iron Throne and renounced all claim to it, much to the annoyance of some in Dorne. Lady Rhaena is extremely close with the youngest daughter of the King and has a likeability about her that is reminiscent of the stories of Rhaenys Targaryen, sister-wife of the Conqueror.

 

 

**House Stark:**

**Lord Robb Stark/(Lady Roslin Frey):** Lord Stark was instrumental in the union of Lord Ned Umber and his Wildling bride, bridging the gap between Northman and Wildling with two of times oldest enemies wedding. Taking the Wall apart was his idea.

**\- Brandon (16): Born 304AC**  – Lord Brandon Stark is the spitting image of his Grandfather Eddard. Known to be a quiet and cold individual to strangers, Brandon doesn't trust easily, perhaps a product of being brought up in a harsh Winter or having a sullen Father as a role model. Nonetheless Brandon is beloved by those closest to him and has formed a capable partnership with his new wife, Princess Elaenor.

**\- Edwyle (14): Born 306AC**  – The Wild Wolf reborn. Edwyle Stark is as arrogant as he is charming. Rumours from Winterfell claim that he lay with a serving girl on his 12th nameday, and deflowered the kennel masters daughter getting her with child. After his elder brother's wedding, Lord Stark moved quickly in marrying Edwyle to Lady Alarra Bolton upon her flowering and naming him the Lord of the Dreadfort.

**\- Bethany (10) Born 310AC**  – The Prize of the North. Lady Bethany has already had a host of marriage offers from Houses all over the realm at the young age of ten due to her beauty and temperament, although Lord Stark has so far refused them all, saying that his daughter won't marry until she is of age.

**\- (Harlon) Stillborn 318AC**  – Though Winter was harsh, the North didn't fall into mourning as much throughout as they did to the news that Lady Roslin had died in childbirth, the baby not surviving either.

**Lady Sansa Tyrell:**  Rarely leaves Highgarden due to the health of her husband, although she regularly hosts the Ladies of the Reach at the castle. Whether this is genuine friendship or a scheme to keep the women's loyalty remains to be seen.

 

**Commander Arya Stark/Ser Waldron Frey:**  Commander Arya was quickly married after the War for the Dawn and soon became pregnant, birthing a son that she named Jon for her cousin, a sentiment that caused a rift between her and her elder brother. They reconciled after Lady Roslin's death however. Ser Waldron is said to have only shared Lady Arya's bed until she got pregnant, before being given new chambers in a separate tower of Moat Cailin.

**\- Jon (12): Born 308AC**  – A calm child but with the ferocity of his Mother when incited. relatively little else is known about Jon Stark, but rumours from the Twins claim that the child can skinchange.

 

**(Bran):**  The tragedy of Brandon Stark, son of Eddard is a harrowing one. His actions during the War for the Dawn saved numerous lives, but the toll fractured his mind. Visions came and went as easily as breathing, though Bran couldn't control them anymore. Beginning to speak in riddles and succumbing to madness, Bran died in 310AC.

 

**Rickon Stark/Alys Karstark:**  After the War for the Dawn Lord Rickon stayed in the South for a number of years, ending his stay South of the Neck with a knighthood from his mentor Lord Stefan Baratheon, Hand of the King. After returning to the North he was married to Lady Alys Karstark, the last surviving member of her House.

**\- Osha (3): Born 317AC**  – Named after the Wildling girl that saved young Lord Rickon's life, nothing is known of Osha Stark other than her name and age.

 

 

**House Tully:**

**Lady Catelyn Stark:**  Lady Catelyn removed herself to Riverrun after the death of her son Brandon and hasn't moved from the castle since.

 

**(Lady Lysa Arryn):** Lady Lysa never recovered from her son being taken away from her by King Durran, and died under house arrest in 313AC.

 

**(Lord Edmure Tully)/Lady Shireen Baratheon:**  Lord Edmure's unfortunate death before the birth of his twin sons left the Riverlands in chaos after the War, but Lady Shireen Baratheon stepped up to the task of Lady Regent and the area is as prosperous now as it has ever been.

**\- Lord Oscar and Edwyn (13): Born 307AC**  – Twins as alike as a Wildling is to a Qaartheen. Lord Oscar is a boisterous womaniser already at such a young age, while his brother, Edwyn, is a pious and stern warrior.

 

 

**House Arryn:**

**Lord Robin Arryn:**  Lord Robin's removal from the Eyrie didn't make him more independent, but instead he relied on the aid of the daughter of Lord Rykker, Meredyth (297AC). The two wed in 312AC, and as of writing this Lady Meredyth Arryn is seven moons pregnant. Amendment: Lady Meredyth birthed a healthy, blonde haired boy that they named Ronnel.

 

 

**House Lannister:**

**Queen Dowager Cersei Lannister:**  The Queen Mother is said to have mellowed greatly and mainly spends her time with her grandchildren as the King and Queen rule the realm.

**\- Lord Tommen Lannister/Lady Lyla Crakehall:**

**\- - Joanna and Joceyln (7): Born 312AC**  – The next generation of Lannister twins are identical in every way. Both are young beauties that will grow to be beautiful women.

**\- - Tyrion (2): Born 318AC**  – The Heir to Casterly Rock is another child named after a great uncle, although unlike the man he was named for, Young Tyrion Lannister is said to take after Ser Jaime, the Kingslayer, in his looks.

 

**(Ser Jaime Lannister):** The Kingslayer was revered as a hero after his actions just before his death, and a statue of the Knight was erected in Casterly Rock.

 

**(Lord Tyrion Lannister):**  While his bravery has been well documented at the order of the King, Lord Tyrion is more famous for his obvious stature, and his extremely short tenure as Lord of Casterly Rock, never setting foot in the castle during his rule.

 

 

**House Tyrell:**

**(Lord Mace Tyrell):** The Fat Flower's legacy was his daughter, as her name became more revered in King's Landing alone that his ever was.

**\- Lady Margaery Tyrell:**  Lady Margaery never took her husbands name, though the pair do share a loving bond. In her time at the Red Keep, Lady Margaery performed countless charitable acts and together with her friend Queen Daenerys became beloved by the smallfolk for their donations.

**\- (Ser Loras Tyrell):** The Knight of the Flowers was fondly remembered by the King, and Highgarden erected a statue of him instead of a tomb considering the manner of his death by Wildfire.

 

**(Ser Harlan Tyrell):** Ser Harlan died before the death of King Robert, and would only be remembered as the Father of Lord Willas.

**\- Lord Willas Tyrell/Lady Sansa Tyrell:**  Lord Willas rules the Reach capably, though his mobility only got worse with age. Lord Stark kindly sent down a wheeled chair designed for Lady Sansa's younger brother to aid Lord Willas, and the two have rarely left Highgarden since returning after the War.

**\- - Edward (14): Born 306AC**  – Lady Olenna Tyrell claimed before her death that the best thing to happen to her House was the birth of her great-grandson Edward. A truly exceptional talent with a blade while showing talent in the social aspects of being the heir to Highgarden. While his Father remains in Highgarden Lord Edward is known to travel the Reach in his name, endearing himself to his future bannermen with wit and songs. Betrothed to Lady Layla Tarly (310AC), daughter of Lord Samwell and Lady Gilly.

**\- - Harlan (8): Born 312AC**  – Harlan struggles with his elder brother's popularity, and is said by Maester Gormon to be a jealous and spiteful young lordling.

 

-  **(Lord Garlan Tyrell of Brightwater Keep):** Would be fondly remembered by House Tyrell as the man who got rid of House Florent.

**\- - Lady Helena Tyrell of Brightwater Keep (16): Born 304AC**  – Lady Helena married the heir to Old Oak and the nephew of Lord Commander Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard, and recently gave birth to a baby boy named after her Father.

 

 

**House Baratheon of Storm's End:**

**Lord Stefan Baratheon/Lady Margaery Tyrell:**  Lord Stefan One-Hand was confirmed as Hand of the King after the War, and the realm has prospered ever since. After hearing jokes about his title meaning he finally had two hands again, Lord Stefan removed his iron arm and had it dipped in gold from Casterly Rock, jesting that now he was truly worthy of the title.

**\- Lyonel (16): 304AC**  – Acting Lord of Storm's End. Lord Lyonel is a fierce warrior with a desire to travel across to Essos to fight in one of the Sellsword companies for a year. Currently betrothed to Lady Kyra Seaworth, the granddaughter of Lord Davos.

**\- Robar (12): Born 308AC**  – King Robert born again. If there's a feast then Robar Baratheon will be found flirting with as any ladies as he can. Quick to anger, his relationship with his elder brother is strained after a fistfight when they were younger.

**\- Ormund (9): Born 311AC**  – Squire for his Uncle Davos, Ormund is a quiet, yet cunning boy. He loves to sail along the Wendwater.

**\- Borros (4): Born 315AC**  – Somehow manages to be even louder than his older brother Robar but is far more intelligent.

 

**Lord Davos Baratheon:**  Lord Davos married Alys Buckler 310AC, and was the joint regent of Storm's End with his Mother from the War up until Lord Lyonel's 16th nameday.

**\- Raya (9): Born 311AC**  – Not a lot is known about Raya Baratheon, although she was born in the middle of Wendwater River.

**\- Steffon (4): Born 316AC**  – There are plans for Steffon to squire for his elder cousin Lyonel.

 

 

**House Dayne:**

**Lord Edric Dayne/Lady Myrcella Dayne:**  The Sword of the Morning has spent the majority of the last 13 years riding from one end of Dorne to the other in order to quash talks of unease and rebellion. He has however still managed to find time to father three children.

**\- Clarissa (11): Born 309AC**  – Lady Clarissa is an unnatural beauty with long silver hair and soft lilac eyes, the heir to Starfall is another with a list of marriage offers taller than her. Lady Clarissa has a talent for archery.

**\- Arthur (8): Born 312AC**  – As a babe Arthur was said to have been the spitting image of his great-aunt Ashara. A studious boy, who favours reading to fighting.

**\- Vorian (7): Born 313AC**  – Prince Duncan's cupbearer. Vorian travelled to King's Landing at an early age and never left, with Lady Myrcella deciding that he could find better prospects for himself in the Capital.


End file.
